


if the hydrangeas bloom

by rainbowsedge (orphan_account)



Series: bottom zayn [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, American Civil War, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Zayn Malik, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Closeted Harry, Consensual Somnophilia, Genderbent Louis, Harry is over 150 years old, Larry is basically nonexistent, Louis is a woman because why not, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, So is Niam, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Top Harry Styles, inexplicable magic, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22313020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rainbowsedge
Summary: “I have lived over a hundred years, I’m not dense enough to not invest in some property,” Harry exchanges a look with Safaa, as though they had an inside joke of making fun of Zayn. “You see, I’m a vampire. Look at my eyes, I’ll hypnotize you and steal your blood.”orZayn’s just an accountant, he didn’t ask to be the one figuring out why Harry’s 177 years old and hasn’t aged past 27. He’s the type of person to be adamant about choosing one’s own destiny, but he’s quickly realizing that it ain’t so easy for some of us toescapeit.(changed name from hydrangea arborscens)NO LONGER UPDATING
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Series: bottom zayn [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694068
Comments: 42
Kudos: 77





	1. I’ll egg your house and smash your car

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, sorry about all the weird works I’ve been posting lately! This one I’m a bit more confident and excited about. 
> 
> They curse a lot in this fic, just warning you!

_**2019.**_

There is magic in the air. People interpret this in different ways, do they not? Some say it is the love that crosses over land and sea, others say it is the oxygen we breathe and the trees we watch swaying in the wind. Others believe in witches, ghosts, demons. 

Zayn’s just an average guy. When people ask him what kind of magic is in the air, he’ll say something like, “I dunno, my sister threw glitter at me yesterday, that was pretty fucking magical.” 

Nevermind. Most average guys aren’t this much of a twat. 

“No no no, I mean,” The woman shakes her head, swaying her hands back and forth at him. “Y’know, science or actual magic or something poetic, you know?” 

“No,” Zayn’s eyes narrow. “I don’t.” 

The woman sits down right at Zayn’s table, where he’s working on his latest tax return form and he immediately goes, “Go away,” as calmly as he can. 

She knows he’ll be a pain in the ass, but he’ll eventually care in a second, she’s sure. “What if I told you—“

“I’m busy, and if you’re trying to read off my client’s social security number, I will call the police and have you arrested.” Zayn warns her, his lips are chapped, his eyelashes are so straight they make him look droopy, but she knows that he’s definitely the one. 

She throws her hands up in the air. “What if I told you that there was something really quite magical in the woods?” 

“I’m not getting trafficked today. If you need to file a non-tax agreement, please go over there.” 

“There are two bikes, hey, listen to me,” She snaps her fingers in his face, which make his eyes become comically wide and his nostrils sort of flare. “In the woods, alright? They’re inside a tree, they’ve been there so long that the tree roots grew around it.” 

Zayn finally looks up at her, “Are you on something, lady?” 

“I wish, you fucking rude ass milennial,” she makes direct eye contact as she says it, widening her eyes in response. “I’m trying to free myself, alright? You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“That sounds like a complaint for HR, it really isn’t my fault that we’re impacted this time of year.” 

“You twat,” She deadpans, leaning on her hands laying flat on his desk. “You need to listen to me. It’s important.” 

Zayn turns and looks up at his computer very deliberately as to not even look in her direction at all. He doesn’t reply either, because he practically has a degree in coventry and employs his skills very often in practice. 

“Your sister’s name is Sarah. No—wait, not Sarah, Sandra? Sandra!” The woman points accusingly, and that’s when Zayn freezes and exhales in reaction. 

“No, that’s not it. It’s,” She snaps her fingers again, “Safaa. Yes, that’s it. And a second one. Wall-E.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, he turns again to his desktop phone and pulls the device to his ear. “Hello, security? Yes, I have a mild threat on level two, she’s harassing me.” 

The woman makes a guttural noise in her throat before shooting up and smacking the phone out of his hand, sending both it and the wire across the room. “I’m the real deal. You need to go to the tree in the woods, alright? It’s your destiny, my slavery, and I’m sorry to do this, but I know where you live and what school your sister attends.” Her gaze is almost hypnotic, Zayn has to give credit for that. She has one green eye and one blue eye, their colors understated and alluring. 

“Are you threatening me? In my own office?” Zayn asked calmly, but he was indeed flipping his shit on the inside. From a very young age he’d learned how to repress his emotions from emoting on the outside. 

“What part of ‘my slavery’ didn’t you hear? You think I want to be doing this?” The woman yells, increasingly hysterical. “You fucking find those bikes, or else I egg your house. Then I’ll—I’ll, uh, I’ll smash your car.” She dramatically spins around and runs out of his office, slamming the door behind her and directing the biggest gust of wind right into Zayn’s face. 

Shakily sitting back down, he fixed his hair with the help of the reflection in the black desktop screen, fluttering his eyes in confusion. He’d gone into Accounting to get the farthest away from weird shit like this happening. His job at the precinct fucked him up with two many serious cases such as people pretending to be werewolves and having to help separate two people who accidentally got stuck together whilst—yeah. No. 

“Nah,” He said to himself out loud, wiggling and getting comfortable again in his chair, then typing once more. “Nah.” 

* * *

“Great job, everyone. We were 20% more productive than we were last week!” His boss, Mr. Smith, a small but jolly man cheers, making everyone else applaud and share his gayness. “Go home and rest, everyone! Let’s kick ‘em tomorrow!” 

Zayn doesn’t really know what that idiom means, but his boss is really nice and he’s too tired to even think right now. So he packs up, heads down to the parking lot and hums to the sound of his car beeping unlocked, proceeding to blast Red Hot Chili Peppers as he made the commute back home. 

His fingers continuously tap on the wheel the entire ride, nodding his head to the beat, pantomiming the lyrics and even singing some of the high notes when it was appropriate to do so. When he pulls in, however, he had to turn his car off so abruptly that he nearly bent the key trying to yank it out in his haste. “What the fuck.” 

He slams his car door and immediately loosens his tie. “What,” He exhales, jaw dropping open so he raises his hand to rub over his mouth. “The fuck.” 

His house has been egged.

After freaking out a little bit more in his driveway, kicking and screaming bloody murder, and while he will never admit it, a little bit of jumping and stomping, he calms down and enters his house. 

“Hi Zee, why were you screaming?” Is the first thing that greets him, making him yelp and nearly fall backwards onto the porch. 

“Wali, what the heck,” Zayn swears, making her giggle uncontrollably. “Why were you just sitting there?” He puts his hands on his hips and looks at his four year old sister, who was curled up on the big armchair facing the door. 

“Well, I saw your car, but you didn’t come in for like ten whole minutes.” 

“It was _not_ ten minutes,” he shakes his head, but deep in his mind he knew it was actually a lot longer than ten minutes. 

“I’m hungy,” Safaa barges in, hearing the commotion, spotting and running towards Zayn to take his leg hostage. “Zee, hungy.” 

“Hey, bub,” He lifts the three year old into his arms, “Where’s Mrs. Wilson?” 

“She just dropped us off, she saw your car too. We came from the backyard.” 

“Ohhh,” Zayn drags out, cuddling his sister close. “Okay, okay, I’ll make supper. Go start washing your hands.” He drops Safaa off to follow Waliyha into the restroom, fully taking his tie off and tossing it in the coat rack’s general direction.

He makes dinner, which is pasta with red sauce, but as Wali’s going through a phase where she refuses to eat red food, her pasta is mixed with plain butter. Safaa is an angel and will demolish anything. “Wali, eat the broccoli.” 

“It’s green.” 

“I thought it was only reds?” Zayn asks, setting the fork back down. “If you only eat pasta and butter, you will actually get scurvy.” 

Wali smacks her lips insolently, “What’s scurvy?” 

“You…you start rotting alive because you don’t get enough vitamins and minerals.” 

Her eyes go wide and her bottom lip puckers, “Rotting?” 

“Yes, rotting. Eat the mini tree.” Zayn points and she nods, picking the fork up like she’s about to face it in battle. “Good girl.” He pats her head when she eventually complies, Safaa giggling at them. 

“Why’re you laughing like that?” Zayn questions, putting the dishes away and clearing up the table. “Oh. You rubbed butter all over your face.” 

“Yes,” Safaa nods. “I did.” 

“Well, go take a bath.” Zayn sends her off, sighing when he’s in the clear to show the least bit of distress. No one told him being the parent of the house was going to be more difficult than his 9 to 5 job. At least the house and car were paid off and the girls were sweet enough to be babysat for free. 

The three of them brushed their teeth together, changed into their nightwear, read a few chapters of “Emma,” and tucked them into their bed. They used to have separate beds, but now they preferred to keep each other close. Even Zayn’s moved to the room closer to theirs because of the night terrors he’d get about anything happening to them. 

Fuck, what a horrible time for fate to intervene. Zayn was just about to start mending himself, you see. 

His eyes snap open to the sound of his car screeching in the driveway, the clock on his nightstand reading exactly 3 AM. In ancient legends, it is said that 3 in the morning marks the witching hour. 

It’s practically _howling_ , and he can hear loud crashes and flashing lights through the crack of his door. 

He leaps out of bed and through the living room window, sees someone genuinely, wholly, completely _wrecking his car_. He grabs the first weapon he sees, which unfortunately happens to be a fireplace poker that he hasn’t cleaned in a while. He stops for a second when he hears Safaa whimper, snapping his head towards their door. His sisters are hugging each other in the corner of their room, and all he can do is give them a reassuring smile and silently close them in. 

After taking in a deep breath, he runs outside like an absolute madman, screaming his best war-cry, but it unfortunately did not prepare him for the reality of what was ensuing. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Hi,” It was the woman from earlier at the accounting firm. “Look, I cleaned your house.” 

“You egged my house and then you cleaned it? _When_?” He sputters, turning around all distracted as she slams her bat down onto his car again. “Fucking shit!” 

“I told you I was going to do this!” She screeches, running around the car with her baseball bat and Zayn chasing her with his poker. “You gave me no choice!” 

“I’m calling the fucking police!” Zayn finally gives up, shooting the woman a look before running back into the house and locking the door. 

“You need to come with me, Zayn Malik. It’s written that you will,” She calmly knocks on the door. “I’ve defaced property, I will reimburse all of it or your insurance will. Please come and hear me out. It’s all I ask.”

“How the fuck do you know my name?” Zayn yanks the door open and gets in her face. “You scared the everloving shit out of my little sisters. Get off of my property—“ 

“Look, look! I can prove it! I’m Louis, by the way, but that doesn’t matter—I have it,” She digs into her pocket and pulls out a neatly folded piece of paper. It’s aged, yellow, slightly crisp at the edges. “I have kept this with me for at least four of your lifetimes.” 

“Huh?” He raises his eyebrows at the insane maniac female, all the while unfolding the paper with shaky hands. “April 29th,1865.” 

“I swear on my mother’s life, it’s real.” 

He glares at her, “Don’t do that.” He clenches his jaw before continuing to read. “What the fuck? ‘Zaine Malike?’ Do you seriously think you can come to my home as if we’re on some fucking prank show, destroy my property, scare my family, and now you’re demanding that I walk into the woods with you in the middle of the night?” 

Louis huffs, “ _Yes._ ” 

“You are insane. You’re mentally ill, fuck off, fuck this,” Zayn slams the door in her face, but within ten seconds, it unlocks by itself and opens again, and this time, she looks actually fucking possessed. 

“You’re coming,” She beckons him forward, and for some reason, he’s complying, his feet are moving forward and his brain is going fuzzy. “I’m sorry. Your neighbor’s on her way to watch your sisters.” 

“Screw. You,” Zayn tries to pull his own body backwards, the bottoms of his nice work shoes sliding across the wood floors as he desperately grabbed the doorframe. “What the hell is this?” 

“It’s magic, you cretin,” Louis shrieks at him, and in that moment, Zayn swears he saw her eyes glow, mismatched as they are, one shining blue as the sky and the other green as the land, her hair was starting to fluff up and sway all about. It all felt a bit too much like an acid trip for Zayn to really care anymore. 

So he lets go. He sees Mrs. Wilson walk out onto her porch, still in her nightwear and looking confused as to why she was even awake, and in the moment that she turns around to shut the door, Zayn’s body slams with Louis’ and they vanish within an instant. 

The next moment, he wakes up covered in mud, incredibly, instinctively _frightened_ out of his mind. It’s a kind of fear that shivers down his spine, not a jumpscare, but worse enough to prefer that over the all-encompassing unsettling nature of it all. He was definitely in the forest, he could feel the moss and the plants surrounding him, as well as hear the river rush just over to his right. 

Zayn quickly realizes that the reason for his unsettlement isn’t necessarily his current situation, but the fact that the tree canopies were so thick that even the full moon’s light couldn’t penetrate through. Not only that, every one of his experiences with being in the woods were always serenaded by the sound of laughter coming from campers and families, the bustle of deer passing through. Here, he could see and hear absolutely nothing. 

He stands up, his legs shaking a little bit as he tries not to slip in the mud he landed, frantically trying to look at his black surroundings. Suddenly, with a quick turn of his head, two glowing eyes meet him, and there went the loudest squeal that he has ever emitted. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Louis hisses, blinking and wringing her hands of mud. “I fucked up the landing because of you.” 

“Why the hell are your eyes glowing?” Zayn sputters, backing away from her until his back slapped against the trunk of a tree. “Ow, jesus.” 

“You know, I wish I knew,” Louis groans, taking her backpack off and pulling out a flashlight. “Come on. Let’s go before I get sick of you.” 

Shit. This really wasn’t a joke. 

She begins to walk in a direction towards a clearing, shaking her legs one by one in an attempt to throw off all the mud that Zayn had apparently made her fall into. He follows her after a second of contemplating running in the other direction, doing the same with his pants and shirt. “Wait up.” 

“We’re almost there,” Louis informs, starting to breathe heavily. “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s finally happening.” 

“ _You_ can’t believe this is happening? Jesus Christ, I’m gonna die here.” Zayn holds his head and shakes it, the stress overflowing out of him. 

After about ten minutes of walking, “Hey, pansy,” Louis whispers, beckoning him to catch up. “I told you it was here. Now do me a favor and—what’s wrong with you?” 

Zayn yanks the flashlight from her hands and points it where she was originally pointing it at, his heart racing a million beats per second and his lungs turning to stone. Louis wasn’t lying. There really were two bicycles embedded in a tree. 

They looked a bit vintage, fading chips of bright colored paint still hanging onto their surfaces, baskets worn down and caved in. The wheels couldn’t turn anymore because of how the tree roots were gripping them. Zayn slowly turns around and points the flashlight at Louis. “What’s the favor?” 

“Oh, now you listen to me?” Louis rolls her eyes, then squinting as she puts a hand up to block the bright light. “There should be a bottle in the basket with a letter for you. Like an old milkman’s bottle.”

“Why haven’t you gotten it yourself?” Zayn glares at her, but walks over to one of the baskets anyways. 

“I can’t touch it,” Louis sighs. “I can’t interfere.” 

“Interfere—god, interfere what?” Once he spots the bottle, he has a bit of trouble yanking it out and nearly trips over one of the roots, flashlight flying out of his hand. “Ah, shit fuck.” 

He gets up again, walking over to pick up the flashlight. “Okay, now what?” He asks Louis, who doesn’t reply. 

That’s strange. Zayn does a full 360 with the flashlight, “Uh...Louis?” 

She’s gone, and now he’s convinced he was hallucinating it all, and he’s just an insane madman covered in mud in the middle of nowhere. He curses to himself before sticking the end of the flashlight in his mouth and directing his attention to the bottle. “Letter, fucking letter,” he mumbles around it, brushing the moss off of the glass to see a rolled up piece of paper. “I’m totally going to get kidnapped and sacrificed for a satanic ritual right about now.” He pops the bottle open with much difficulty, grunting in triumph when the cap flies into the darkness. With his right hand, he grabs the paper and drops the bottle, it rolling away into the night as well. 

Zayn takes the flashlight in his left hand and with both he unrolls the piece of paper, dangerously close to snapping with age. There are words on it that he could actually make out, which meant that he wasn’t in a dream or on a bad acid trip. 

“Zayne Malike. Go to this address.” Zayn reads to himself out loud, and the moment he says it, the winds pick up out of nowhere and rush past and towards him, shoving his body to and fro roughly, and for some reason, the thick canopy above spread, letting the moonlight in. 

Suddenly, he’s being thrown onto the sidewalk, coughing as though he’d been punched in the adam’s apple, gasping for air and grabbing his body with his dried-mud clad hands. The letter was still clutched in his grip, which made the least sense out of all the things that just didn’t make sense, and as Zayn looks around, he realizes that he is very, very far from home. 

He’d landed in front of a house, decently sized, painted a pale pink with blue, white, and purple hydrangeas planted in the front yard. On the second floor, one of the room’s lights were on. “Oh my god.” 

His feet drag up to the door, because at the very least he needed a phone to call for help, the porch steps creaking and complaining. He gulps, exhaling and knocking the knocker on the wood. 

There’s silence for a good two minutes, and Zayn really isn’t fucking with that right now. “Hey!” He begins to hysterically pound on the door, “I know you’re in there!” 

“Louis, if that’s you, get the fuck away before I call the police!” A voice shrieks back, immediately making Zayn stop and stand there, frozen. “I don’t hear you leeeeeeeaving! Fuck offfff!” 

He’s positive that this is how he dies, and for some reason, it’s like his feet are glued to the porch, in their exact position, and he can’t move at all. Worse than that, he hears the person in the house start storming closer and closer, so being the survivalist he is, the sound of a wounded tomcat erupts from his throat, jaggedly cut off when the door swung open and he fell face first. 

“What?” It was a man. A very tall, broad, firm man. Zayn makes some kind of reguritary grunt, palms shoving down on the man’s chest and shoulders like a panicked chihuahua going to the vet. “Alright, alright, stop it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Zayn sobs, rolling off of him unfathomably mortified. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened to me, I don’t know where the fuck I am.” 

“Well, I know where we are,” The man stands up first, fixing his hair and grimacing at how Zayn’s muddy ass got his white shirt all dirty. “We’re in my house.”

“Yeah,” Zayn rasps, taking his hand when the man offered it. He pulls him up so easily, as though he weighed nothing, and goddammit, this was not the time for his dick to twitch the way it just did. “M’name’s Zayn.” 

“I’m Harry,” Harry talked a bit funny, like an old-timey accent where the enunciation was different and he pronounced the ‘h’ in front of all his ‘w’s. “Nice to meet you?” 

Zayn gulps, getting a full view of the sight before him. He was at least five inches taller than him, which was a feat as it was, considering that he was almost 6 feet tall. And his shoulders, god, his shoulders were nearly as wide as the threshold. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Well, that’s not very nice,” Harry frowns, eyebrows scrunching beautifully. Zayn looked up to quickly take his words back and explain, and that’s when he saw it. 

“Your...your eyes.” 

Harry frowns harder before sighing. “Fuckin’ Louis.” 

“They’re just like hers,” Zayn’s stomach knots itself a million different ways. “Like the exact colors,” 

“Yes,” Harry deadpans, looking down at his sullied clothes, “I’m guessing she committed multiple felonies to get you here,” Harry closes the door and begins to walk further into the house, turning on all the lights. “I’ll make tea.”

“She said I was fated,” Zayn blurts out without really thinking. Just an hour ago (or two, his sense of time has sort of been mangled) he was willing to chase the crazy lady off his lawn while screaming about how he wanted nothing to do with it. Now he was suddenly being defensive? “To meet you. She said she was a slave.” 

“God, what a drama queen,” Harry exhales loudly, even his breathing sounded annoyed. “I’m sorry about her.”

“I don’t want an apology,” Zayn wiped at his face, shivering at how the mud dried onto his cheeks and forehead. “An explanation would be so, so much better.” 

“You should sit down,” Harry looks up from head to toe repeatedly, like he was trying to read his soul; right through him. “Scratch the tea, I’ll get the whiskey.” 

Zayn jumps at the sound of one of the dining table chairs screeching on the ground, but wordlessly sits down anyways as he waited for the stranger to come back. 

Harry reappeared, holding two meticulously clean glasses and a bottle of liquor, a bit too calm about this entire situation for Zayn’s liking. “I don’t think I should ease into what I’m about to tell you. To start with, once I do tell you, please leave and never come back. Don’t speak of what happened today, and if the insane batshit harpy appears again, just throw something at her and she’ll scram.” 

“Okay,” Zayn swallows when Harry pours him a lot of whiskey, holding the glass with both of his shaky hands as he tentatively sipped.

“I was born in 1838.” 

Zayn lurches forward and an entire mouthful of alcohol spews from his lips, the distance and velocity so impressive that he nearly aerated it. “Uh,” 

“I fought in the Civil War, where I made friends with a guy named James. Discussions are still being held, but the leading theory is that he’s the reason my eyes are like this,” Harry points to his own face, “And why you’re here. Where do you live, Zayn?” 

“Near downtown,” Zayn says meekly, he’s never been so scared in his entire life. He wants to be sarcastic and witty about it, but this is just that shittingly scary. 

“Well, that means you’re nearly fifty miles from home,” Harry shrugs. “Any idea how you got here so fast?” 

“Is that a rhetorical question?” 

Harry laughs, genuinely so, his lips widening into a smile as though he didn’t expect to. “You got here so fast because of an old, old kind of magic that binds people together. One moment you’re here, the next moment you’re there. One moment you have the same colored eyes,” He grits his teeth as he says it, “The next moment you’re trapped with a girl you don’t love anymore for the next 150 years.” 

“Oh?” Zayn asks, it comes out like a squeak. “Louis?” 

“Yes, Francesca Louis Tomlinson,” Harry sounds displeased even saying her name. “We were married after the war. Shit ended bad, I guess you could say.” 

“I’m high. I must have—someone must’ve stuffed some grass in my lunch, this is so fake,” He laughs anxiously, “This isn’t _real_.” 

“Honestly, she must be getting desperate,” Harry drinks his whiskey like it’s water, like he doesn’t feel even half the burning sensation Zayn can’t hide in his throat. It’s kind of really hot. “Usually it’s some poor, unsuspecting girl that she’ll find and dump onto me like I’m an endangered animal shoved into a cage to mate.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” There it was, his tongue was finally returning home. “I don’t really have D cups, that must be the biggest deal breaker ever.” 

“Yeah, actually. I’m quite straight,” Harry throws his hands up like ‘what can you do.’ “I can drive you home now.” 

“So wait, your eyes change because you’re tied with her?” Zayn is beginning to freak out again, “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s a curse, really. Something to do with soulmates,” Harry shakes his head and scratches the back of it. “So, drive you home now?” 

Zayn looks offended, “Um, my life just got derailed and you’re just going to drop it on me like that? Is that what you do to those girls you mentioned?” He stands up to face Harry, but he’s much too tall to meet eye to eye. “Fuck ‘em and dump ‘em?” 

Harry rolls his eyes, “No, I don’t. I try to keep this traumatizing experience as concise as possible. You’re so haughty,” Zayn knows he means to say it seriously, but his very first thought was that Harry was calling him naughty and that wasn’t helping his fear erection. Fearection. 

“I can’t age until I find my soulmate, it’s really stupid and sounds like a bad vampire movie. Lucky for you, it’s not your problem.” Harry pulls his phone out to click into Maps. “Address?” 

“What about the tree?” Zayn refuses, because he somehow has this urge to _not leave_. It was making his stomach turn. “The bikes?” 

“It’s how I’m stuck,” Harry answers after a pause, like he needed to think about whether or not to answer him. “At this age. I’m 27, and you,” He shakes his head when Zayn opens his mouth again. “Ask too many questions.” 

“I’m sure everyone else Louis’ ever kidnapped asked a lot of questions,” Zayn scoffs, “I should honestly call the police on both of you.” 

“I mean, go ahead. There isn’t even evidence that anything happened,” Harry says condescendingly. “So do it. I don’t really care about your needs at this point.” 

Zayn nearly gasps. This beautiful man was so rude. “24 Hydrangea Lane.” 

Harry freezes in the middle of typing it out, and again, he looks genuinely surprised. “Interesting.” 

“Yeah, I saw your actual hydrangeas outside, I wouldn’t have taken you for a flower man,” Zayn snorts, and Harry smiles again, despite himself. “I’m sorry for ruining your shirt.” 

“I’m sorry for ruining your life.” 

“Hey now, don’t patronize me,” Zayn, in a wave of confidence, reaches over to grab the bottom of Harry’s shirt and wipes his face with it, the latter staring right at him in shock. “Can’t go home looking like I just fell in a mudflat.” 

Harry snaps out of his daze, “Your girlfriend a clean freak?” 

“Double no: I’m gay and single, thanks.” 

“You still live with your mom then? How old are you?” Harry cocks his head to the side like he just asked a couple of easy questions, and even though they were, Zayn hates him for it. 

“My mom’s dead. I’m twenty si—you ask a lot of questions,” Zayn deflected and began marching towards the front door. “You can take me home now.” 

“Sorry about that,” Harry holds his hand up. “Didn’t mean to offend.” 

“Yeah yeah, Mr. I don’t care about your needs.” Zayn mimics in an exaggerated nasal tone, and Harry smiles again, because it’s genuinely kind of endearing. “Nice car.” 

“It’s an old Toyota.” 

“Nice car as in you have a car,” Zayn says, “It’s too bad that a crazy lady absolutely destroyed mine. It was a Mustang,” He stepped into the passenger seat when Harry unlocked the doors. “Named Matilda, and she started screaming when a bat was barbarically taken to her windows.” 

“She started screaming?” Harry raises an eyebrow, looking amused. “You unironically personify your car?” 

“Whatever,” Zayn pouts, feeling like he’s been shamed. “My car started honking and until Louis broke the lights and engine.” 

“Got it; she started screaming ‘till she just couldn’t take it anymore.” Harry says smoothly, and Zayn can’t help but snort. 

“Jesus.” 

“Agreed. This was a very crazy night for you.”

“No, you’re going 85 miles per hour, I’m calling Jesus to make sure I go to heaven when we crash and die,” Zayn hangs onto the handle above the window and presses himself as far as he can into the seat. “Are you trying to kill us?” 

“I think I’ve had a lot of practice in driving, seeing how I’ve been alive to witness when the first ones started rolling out and being sold. That and the lifetime of practice,” Harry clicks his tongue. “We’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Zayn drags out, nauseous. 

“You live alone?” 

There’s a pause. “Got two baby sisters.” 

Harry nods, “That’s chill. Few years younger than you?” 

Zayn breathes a sigh of relief when Harry finally slows down. “No, more like they’re three and four and I’m more than two decades older than them. And before you ask how, my mom had me when she was seventeen.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask how, but thanks for sharing,” Harry says sarcastically, in the same tone that Zayn’s mastered. “That’s what you sound like.” 

“I don’t sound like a whiny bitch,” Zayn says it and immediately regrets it, “Well,” 

“Yeah,” Harry ends the sentence before it starts, pearly white teeth peeking through his smile once more. God, his smile. His nose, his side profile, his hair. “That’s the word. Whiny bitch.” 

“And you’re a calloused wannabe lumberjack,” Zayn pokes back at him, “You know, the whole standoffish thing died out in 2010.”

“Maybe I’m just genuinely stoic,” Harry raises his eyebrows. “Is being calloused a bad thing?”

“Girls don’t like it.” 

“Who said I cared about what girls think?” Harry edges the pedal a little more and Zayn’s anxiety is rising at the same pace. 

He says, “But you’re straight.” 

“And?” Harry asks, smoothly making a sharp left. “I haven’t been in the city in a long time.” 

“You live alone, huh?” Zayn deduced out loud. “It’s like you’re hiding from something, all cooped up in the middle of nowhere.” 

“Maybe I just hate the city.” 

“Then why are your eyes all sparkling like that?” Zayn hums, getting a little closer to Harry. “What’s your deal?” 

“My deal?” Harry grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “I’m over a hundred years old and can’t age, not to mention how I look like a freak.” 

“You don’t though,” Zayn disagrees truthfully. “I’m sure your original eye color was very nice, but your eyes now are too. You’re a—good looking guy, don’t sell yourself short,” He places a hand on Harry’s shoulder and looks at the side of Harry’s face. “Find a nice chick in a quiet bar and get laid tonight.” 

Harry looks pensive about it, “It’s not that easy. Girls usually can’t even make eye contact with me, nevertheless touch me in any sort of way. They get all afraid and grossed out, say I give off a bad vibe.”

“I’m touching you,” Zayn pats Harry to prove his point. “I’m not grossed out.” 

The navigation dings that their destination was on their left, and the both of them look to see the damage. “Huh. She got to your car pretty quickly.” 

“What the shit?” Zayn gets out of the car and runs over to his Mustang, spreading out onto its hood and hugging it. “It’s okay? How?” 

Harry shrugged, “Magic.” They lock eyes, and whatever Zayn was about to say gets lost back into his head, because there was a guy staring at him and he right back. It’s nearly hypnotizing, how bright Harry’s eyes are, alluring and intense. 

“You’ve got the eyelashes of a girl,” Harry comments softly, and Zayn makes a disgusted sound. “Okay, okay. You’ve got the eyelashes of, I dunno, fuckin’ Bambi.” 

“Better,” Zayn admits, and smiles small at him. “Thanks for the lift.” 

Harry sighs and shrugs, “It’s the least I can do.” 

“Good night,” Zayn steps back, even though he doesn’t want to. 

“Good night.” 

Harry speeds off the second Zayn hears his front door open, turning around to see a horrified Mrs. Wilson with Safaa and Wali hiding behind her skirt. “Zayn, sweetheart? Is that you?” 

“Yea, Mrs. Dubs,” Like instinct, Zayn runs with outstretched arms, baby sisters meeting him halfway. “I’m sorry I scared you, bubbas.” His mind is clearing a little bit, and he wasn’t even aware that it had been foggy at all. 

“S’okay, Zee,” Wali clings to his neck and Safaa shoves her in jealousy. “No!” They continue shoving each other and crying, eventually making Zayn pinch his nose and pull them apart. “Zee loves me more than you, you’re snotty.” 

“Hey, stop it,” Zayn warns, picking the both of them up in each arm and carrying them into the house. “You two need to brush your teeth again, I can smell the cookies you aren’t allowed to have at this hour. It’s nearly 5 in the morning now, the sun’s about to come out.“ 

He and his sisters walk back into the house and bid farewell to Mrs. Wilson, who still seemed a bit confused as to why she had been at the Maliks’ home in the middle of the night. But just like she shook it off, he did as well, tucking his sisters back into bed. Somehow, by the time Zayn woke up, got his sisters ready for daycare and left for work, it was as though nothing had ever happened. 

No evidence of a time-defying man with mismatched eyes. However, there is a single piece of paper tucked underneath the doormat that Zayn will find...eventually. Hopefully, or else this story will go nowhere. 

  
  



	2. can we get a dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you help me with this,” Harry points to his eyes, “I promise to grant you one wish, any kind of wish within my capabilities, alright? We also don’t even have to see each other again.”
> 
> DISCLAIMER: MY HISTORY IS INACCURATE, LEARN TO LIVE WITH IT

Sometimes, ignoring the existence of something is better than chasing all the answers to the questions it brings up. 

“I think you got in trouble, Zee,” Wali talks with her mouth full of toast, slapping her feet loudly over to him in her sparkly light-up Skechers. “There’s a note for you.” 

Oh god, it’s probably an issued complaint for the noise level they’ve raised tenfold since him moving back. “Give it here, Wali,” 

“Okay,” She smacks her lips before yawning, exposing all the half-chewed up food in her mouth. “Ew, that was yucky.” 

“Yes,” Zayn narrows his eyes at her. “It was.” 

“Zee, I can’t find my shoes,” Safaa runs into the kitchen, whimpering with just her socks on. “Shoes,” 

“Hold on, Saf, give me a second,” Zayn lifts her and sits her down on a dining room chair, dragging a plate of miscellaneous breakfast foods in front of her. He exhales nervously as he unfolds the piece of paper, only to press his head back and create some extra chins in surprise. 

Wali points and laughs at him while Safaa continues to make sad and anxious noises with a ring of milk surrounding her lips. “Okay, okay, Saf, I’ll find your shoes, just finish your banana.” He drops the paper onto the table and bolts towards the girls’ room, Waliyha in the meantime reaching for it with a sly grin. 

“Stop crying,” She tells Safaa plainly, who looks to be on the verge of tears. “Eat your oatmeal.” 

“No,” Safaa shakes her head, messy head of hair flying everywhere. “I don’t like oatmeal.” 

“Have this,” Waliyha pushes her plate of jam and bread towards her, studying the mysterious paper with intense thought. “Oh, it’s a phone number!” 

“A fone numba?” Safaa asks, already feeling better by the prospect of food that she can actually chew. “Zee,” She calls, the sound of footsteps making Waliyha drop the paper back where it was in a rush. 

“Wali, the bus is gonna be here in ten minutes, go brush your teeth. I found your shoes, Saf,” Zayn bends down to secure them onto her little feet, slightly out of breath and still exhausted. “There we are.” 

He looks up to see Safaa yawning at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. He sits there for a second, confused on what to do, then Safaa begins to shake and he’s pulling her into his arms. “What’s wrong? What did I do? Oh fu—goodness, what’s wrong, bub?” 

“Tired,” Safaa wails, clinging onto his neck and rubbing her face on his work shirt. “Don’t go, Zee, please,” 

Zayn feels awful. “I won’t, bub,” He rubs her back comfortingly, shushing her and lulling her to soft hiccups. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” 

“Promise,” Safaa demands, and it’s all snotty and said with a lot of effort. She opens her mouth to say something else, but ends up dropping her jaw and yawning again, burying her face in his neck. 

“You know what, I think I need to take a day off too.” Zayn stands up, “Wali, you wanna stay home today?” He asks as she’s double knotting her shoes. 

She turns around fiercely and expertly raises one eyebrow. “Are you kidding? Danny’s bringing his lizard today that he caught from his garage and we’re gonna race it with Ms. Jeannie’s.” 

“Who would want to miss that?” He replies sarcastically, but she’s four, so she takes it face value and smiles. 

“I’m happy you understand,” She tips her imaginary hat at him and speeds outside. In a moment, she’s jumping into the school bus and leaving for the day. 

Zayn feels Safaa breathing into his shirt, knowing she’s fast asleep by the way she’s gone completely silent. He sighs, dialing his boss and letting him know the unfortunate news that he has caught a nasty, nasty,  _ nasty _ case of strep throat and won’t be able to come in today. He hangs up and feels her shift, “Your heart is beating so fast,” He murmurs worriedly, pulling her back a bit to get a proper look. “Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?” 

She squirms and sniffles at him, and unfortunately, he knows this kind of distress all too well. “Okay, I’m taking you to the doctor.” 

“No,” She says sadly, reaching back for his neck. “No.” 

Zayn’s heart melts a little bit, “Okay, I’ll call the doctor. Can I put you down?” 

“Unpreferable.” 

“Saf, that’s not a word. You meant ‘undesirable.’” Zayn sits down on the couch and wraps her up in a blanket, one of her hands clutched to his the whole time. He ruffles her hair, “What’s got you all nervous?” 

Safaa’s still holding onto him tightly and looking up at him, as though her eyes should be enough to explain. “I’m not going anywhere, bub.” 

Safaa gives him a look like she doesn’t believe him, and Zayn wants to cry. He sucks in a sharp inhale, “How about you take a nap? People always feel better after a nap.” 

She looks unconvinced, and god, Zayn really, really wants to cry. “Okay, then. Why don’t we go to the grocery store and I’ll make you your favorite? We’re already dressed; might as well, right?” 

“Okay,” Safaa says softly, plopping down on the floor when they both stand. “Hand,” She commands, and Zayn makes sure to wrap her whole hand up tightly, because she’ll usually start grabbing him with both arms if he doesn’t.

As Zayn buckles her into her seat and turns the radio on for her, he has this moment where he looks in the rearview mirror and sees her sitting by herself, looking worried and sad. She’s only three, already with the amount of anxiety Zayn developed when he was sixteen. “Do you wanna talk about it, bub?” 

“No, not really,” She responds in her adorable little girl timbre, each word perfectly thought out and enunciated. “I want chocolate milk.” 

“Okay, we can do that,” Zayn laughs, focusing back on the road. A few years ago, he was the kind of person who’d gasp at the thought of excess expenditures, but now that they have a bit of money that was supposed to ease their sudden loss, he’d do anything to make his baby sisters happy. “We can get chocolate milk,” He repeats to himself, pulling into the grocery store parking lot and twisting around to make sure the car backs in straight. 

“C’mon, Saf,” He unbuckled her and let her out of the car, fixing her jacket before holding her hand and walking in. “D’you want to sit in the cart seat?” 

“No,” She replies very smartly, waving hi to a woman leaving the store. “Can we get cookies?” 

“We have cookies at home,” Zayn reasons, “If you consume too much sugar too early you can get early-onset type two diabetes.” 

“What’s die a beetles?” Safaa asks, and behind them, someone snorts very loudly, loud enough to make Zayn wrinkle his forehead and turn around to confront them. 

“Diabetes is when your body can’t control the amount of sugar you have inside, and so it makes you really, really sick, and you have to poke yourself with needles for the rest of your life,” Harry says calmly while picking out a box of pasta. “Tell me, little one, bows or cannolis?” 

“Bows,” Safaa answers quickly, smiling a little at the funny man. Zayn, however, is less than pleased. 

“Can you not scar my sister with your lackluster censoring of difficult topics?” Zayn picks her up protectively and widens his eyes at Harry. “What are  _ you _ even doing here? I thought you hated the city.” 

Harry shrugs before looking them over, “Dunno about that, bud. She seems pretty scarred already.” 

Zayn stops and blinks, taken aback. “Shut up.”

“I have a house here that I forgot needed tending to,” Harry has a tendency to react and reply late to things, but then again, he is extremely concentrated between two different jars of tomato sauce, “Little one, three cheese or meat?” 

“Three cheese add meat later,” Safaa explains expertly, smiling wider when Harry nodded like he was impressed. 

“Quite the pasta connoisseur you’ve got there,” Harry turns to Zayn again, “You guys look alike.” 

Zayn’s eye twitches before turning and getting his own boxes of pasta and sauces as well, moving Harry out of the way. “You’ve got two houses?”

“I have lived over a hundred years, I’m not dense enough to not invest in some property,” Harry exchanges a look with Safaa, as though they had an inside joke of making fun of Zayn. “You see, I’m a vampire. Look at my eyes, I’ll hypnotize you and steal your blood.” 

Safaa giggles, then buries her face in Zayn’s neck. 

“Are you stalking me?” Zayn put Safaa down in the cart, much to her behest. “Can you stop it?” 

“I was actually in the store before you came in. I’m wondering if you and Gordon Ramsey here are stalking  _ me, _ ” Harry smiles slightly, it’s a little crooked and his eyes flash. 

“Woah,” Safaa is enchanted, standing up in the cart and trying to get the best view of the show that is her big brother and Edward Cullen. “You have fairy eyes.” 

“Do I?” Harry asks her, entertaining her antics, “Don’t have wings though, kind of disappointing.” 

“Do you want chocolate milk?” Safaa blurts out, and for a second, Zayn thinks she’s talking to him, but upon further inspection he realizes that Safaa is actually making friends with the insane voodoo witch man. “We’re getting chocolate milk.” 

“Yup, which is in the other direction, bye!” Zayn’s voice tips into a mildly sarcastic tone, wheeling himself and his sister away from the situation (totally not in a gay panic kind of way). Harry waves at Safaa though and makes a funny face, causing her to blubber and laugh uncontrollably. “Hey, stop doing that,” 

“Sorry,” She says while smiling and rolling her eyes, which makes Zayn burst out in a scoff. 

“Wow, you sarcastic little,” Zayn ruffles her hair and hands her a carton of chocolate milk. Safaa puts her hands up and shrugs innocently. “Huh.” 

“Is that man coming over?” Safaa asks, lifting her head and peering behind him where Harry was now comparing two completely identical lemons to each other. “Is he your boyyyyfriend?” By the time they’ve gotten to the check out section, Zayn’s turned all shades of flustered trying to avoid Harry at all costs. 

“No, he unfortunately likes other appropriately aged  _ girls _ ,” Zayn explains, scanning each of their items in the self-checkout. “Isn’t he scary, bub? Aren’t you scared of him? He’s like a…giant with glowing eyes.” 

“That’s not very nice,” Safaa informs sternly, and Zayn just settles in her cuteness and kisses her head. “Zee, we didn’t get the stuff for my favorite.” 

“Oh,” Zayn realizes she’s right, lightly hitting himself on the head, “We’ll check these out and then go back, yeah?” 

“Yeah, for the edamamame?” Safaa points to the produce aisle, where Harry was now studying a bunch of bananas intensely. 

Zayn sighs, looking up at the sky for a second before proceeding, nodding at Safaa without turning his head towards her. “Yes, yup, yep,” He quickly turns the cart around, making Safaa fall on her bottom in the cart and make a confused sound. 

“Don’t look at him,” Zayn says to her, but more to himself, “Don’t interact, dangerous waters, dangerous, sharky...waters.” He stuffs a plastic bag full of beans as quickly as he can, keeping his neck as stiff as possible. 

“Are you robbing a bank?” 

His nostrils flare as he explodes, “Why do you keep talking to me? I thought I was supposed to go home and never speak about it again,” Zayn turns around right in Harry’s face. “Oh, shit—“

Harry shrugs, “That’s what I said before I realized that you might actually be helpful.” 

Zayn takes a step back. “Helpful how? You need your taxes filed?” He drags, rolling his eyes. “Whatever it is, it’s a no. There probably isn’t even anything in it for me, and why would I do something that I won’t get paid for?”

“I can’t touch the tree,” Harry says it like Zayn knows already, which, to be fair, he kind of does. “I hope Louis told you that much, or else I’ll sound like an actual crazy.” 

“You are an actual crazy,” Zayn hums condescendingly, “I dunno what you’re talking about.” 

“Wow, twisting my asks in such a terrible way,” Harry looks down to the bag. “Are you going to eat that many edamame beans?” 

“Yeah, too much.” Safaa agrees, seeing how Zayn’s neurotically stuffed the bag full.

Zayn looks down and coughs, “Yes, actually,” he nods, “I’m going to eat so many edamame beans that one of my eyes will turn green and I’ll live for a hundred fitty years.” 

“Oh,” Harry smiles, “You’re still in shock.” 

“And why,” Zayn spins his body around, “Are you so...so,” 

“So…?” 

“Confident? Charming?” Zayn shakes his head, “You—you really shouldn’t lead people on this way.” He moved to push the cart away, but Harry stops him. 

“I said I was straight,” he says, “Didn’t say how.”

“You said you liked D-cups,” Zayn whispers, considering there was a very precocious three year old in their presence. 

“Said it was a dealbreaker that you didn’t have D-cups? Meant it was a dealbreaker that you thought that’s what I wanted. Y’know, all sarcastic and stuff.” Harry says cooly, which only makes Zayn wants to punch him in the face even more. 

“You are a terrible person,” Zayn finally finds the courage to move, taking in a sharp exhale and smiling reassuringly at Safaa. 

“I’ll give it to you.” 

Zayn ignores him, but Harry just stands there and continues, “My house.” 

That certainly gets his attention; the cart wheels squeak as Zayn stops abruptly, Safaa jerking forward. “What?” 

“I got two, don’t need both, do I?” Harry throws an apple in the air and catches it. “You seem pretty smart; smart enough to figure out how to break the enchantment of a magical tree. It’s a nice house, middle of the city-suburbs, paid off and currently renting it out. You could sell it.” Harry walks over to them and picks up their bag of edamame. “As a down payment, these are on me.”

“I hate you.” Zayn tells him plainly, and Harry just laughs, again like he’s genuinely surprised to be laughing. 

“Hate is a strong word,” Safaa, ever the smartass, outstretches her arms up towards him. Once Zayn picks her up, Harry’s already done checking out and is rolling the cart. 

“I’ll help you take these to your car.” 

“This is how people get kidnapped, no thank you.” 

Harry gave him a look, “If I were a kidnapper, would I really have shared whiskey with you? Did I not drive you home? And have bought twenty dollars worth of the one bean I can’t stand eating?” 

Zayn looks around in contemplation, which Harry registers as extremely endearing, before subtly pouting and nodding, walking ahead of Harry. “Follow me.” 

Safaa giggles, looking behind Zayn over his shoulder at Harry. “Zee, you’re being funny.” 

“How so, bub?” Zayn eyes Harry as he opens his car door and fastens Safaa in. 

“He keeps laughing at you,” She smiles brightly, brighter than Zayn’s seen in awhile. 

“Is he now?” He looks to where Harry’s loading in all the groceries, lips tightly pursed together. 

“You know,” Harry says, feeling his stare, “Living a very long time has made me flexible about a lot of things. But anyways, about the tree, have you got any ideas?” 

“I have no ideas!” Zayn screams at him, “I’m still not sure whether or not this entire thing is a nightmare or a schizophrenic hallucination!” 

“Well, it’s your responsibility now,” Harry pouts exaggeratedly. “I made a downpayment. You took the letter out of the bottle. Your name was on it.” 

“Doesn’t mean sh—anything.” Zayn corrects himself quickly. “Are you just trying to make fun of me?” He closes the door so that Safaa wouldn’t hear the next part, “You’re just teasing because you know I’m disgustingly attracted to you and you need some kind of fun in your boring, hermit life.” 

Harry smiles again, this time with teeth, “You’re attracted to me?” He asks slowly. 

“Did you not see in the store how you stopped every single person when you walked past them?” Zayn leans on the car, trying really hard not to go red. He’s failing miserably. 

Harry contemplates it, “I think it’s just my height.”

“Why are you doing this?” Zayn begs, on the verge of hyperventilating. “I don’t want anything to do with this.” 

“Hydrangeas,” Harry says easily. “Because you live on a street called Hydrangea Lane and that’s my favorite flower.” 

“You, sir, are apeshit.” Zayn shakes his head. 

“Sure, let’s say I am,” Harry leans close and his eyes flash. “But I have this feeling that you're still paying off student loans, raising a toddler that has severe separation anxiety, so maybe it’s  _ you _ that needs some kind of fun in your life.” 

“Stop attacking me,” Zayn’s bottom lip wavers. “Stop acting like you know anything about me, like you know anything about my reality.” He opens the driver’s door. “Fuck off.” 

Harry steps back from the car and just smiles that same sly smile as though Zayn genuinely surprises him. After he sees Safaa wave at him through the window, he laughs, “I like you, but hey, aren’t you scared my curse will infect you too?” He knocks on the window for Zayn to roll down. “Wake up one day with one amber eye and one green?” 

Zayn stares at him, then wordlessly looks away, but it’s obvious he’s a bit panicked. “Your—eyes were green?” 

“Yeah,” Harry puts his arms in through the open window, resting them and bending down in order to make eye contact with him. “Used to be my best feature. Made all the girls and boys go crazy.” 

Zayn laughs out of spite, “Now that’s ironic.” 

Harry smiles too, eyes flashing again. “I gave you my number, snuck it into your pocket before you got out of my car. I  _ implore _ you to call me whenever you need help, alright? Let me prove to you that I’m not actually a bad guy, just in need.” 

“Haha,” Safaa giggles, because as far as the phone number goes, she knows exactly what he’s talking about. “Zee has a boyfriend.” 

Zayn snaps out of his haze, jaw dropping before he firmly replies, “He’s not my boyfriend.” He shoves Harry’s hands out of his car, pulled out of the parking lot, and sped into the street as fast as he could. 

————————

Safaa needs therapy, apparently. The pediatrician instructed Zayn to spend more time with her and affirm confidence in being more independent and solid and a bunch of other superlative adjectives he zoned out on. 

It’s been three weeks since the grocery store incident. 

“Mrs. Wilson’s coming over today, okay?” He tells Safaa, patting her head. “I know you’ll be good.” He turns to Wali, “Mrs. Wilson’s coming over today, okay? Please don’t get peanut butter on her dress, or put Kool-aid in her hair, or bring any kind of living thing into the house.” 

“Okay,” Wali pouts. “You’re no fun.” 

“I’m going to be back soon, I’m just going on a hike.” Zayn motioned to his fitbit, which he got for Christmas last year from one of his more friendly co-workers. 

“Can I come?” Safaa asks, quiet and polite, and the pediatrician’s words ring in his head. 

Zayn bends down, “Of course you can. But not you, Wali.” 

Waliyha sticks her tongue out at him, “You like her more than me.” 

“No, you’re a hazard who is unafraid of heights and has no critical sense of depth perception yet.” Zayn tells her honestly, to which she just smacks her lips disapprovingly and waves him off. 

“I’ll get dressed,” Safaa jumps down from the breakfast table and runs into the bedroom. 

Waliyha points her fork at him accusingly, “You don’t hike. You eat donuts.” 

“Shush,” Zayn throws her a look, which she pantomimes  _ catching  _ in the air, the little asshole. Safaa runs out excitedly and grabs the bottom of the windbreaker he’s got on, so he finishes it by saying, “Be good, or so help me God I will take away all the cookies from this house.” He kisses Wali on the head, “Love you, bud.” 

“Mhm,” 

“Gosh, who taught you to be so snarky?” Zayn asks and Safaa cackles. It’s in that moment he realizes he might be too dumb to raise them. “Do you even know what that means, Saf?” 

“No, but I do, but I don’t.” Safaa replies, getting on her tippy toes to reach and yank open the door. “Let’s go!” 

“Hello hello?” They hear Mrs. Wilson coming in from the back door, since their yards were connected by a door that’s how she usually gets around. “Waliyha, darling! Let’s have a tea party.” 

Zayn smiles at her smugly, “Hi Mrs. Dubs!” then taking Safaa’s hand, running out of the house as fast as possible. 

“Is your man friend not coming over, Zee?” Safaa asks as he fastens her elaborate web of a seatbelt. “He said to call him if you needed help.” 

“I don’t need help,” Zayn pinches her cheek. 

“Wali doesn’t like tea parties,” Safaa blinks at him. 

Zayn nods, “Huh,” then pats her head before closing the door and getting behind the wheel. 

_ Stop thinking about Harry.  _

_ Stop thinking about Harry.  _

Before he knows it, they’re at the hiking trail, and Safaa’s already pointing excitedly at the dogs, wriggling and kicking her legs. Zayn smiles at her through the rearview mirror, and for a moment, he does actually forget. 

When they get to the beginning, where the path begins to fork, he knew exactly how to handle this opportunity of curiosity. He points at what he knows to be the easy trail and says, “That’s the hard trail. We should do the easy one.” 

Safaa immediately goes, “No, let’s go on the hard trail!” stomps her foot, and Zayn makes a show of being all like, “Noooo, it’s much too difficult,” and then “Oh,  _ fine _ .” 

They end up hiking the easy trail, is the main point. And even then, by the time they got to the middle of the trail to the top of the mountain, Zayn had Safaa on his shoulders. 

“Zee, I’m tired,” Safaa complains, resting her head on top of Zayn’s. “You’re wet.” 

“See? I told you we should’ve gone on the easy trail,” Zayn fibs, “And it’s sweat, Saf. You’re just as sticky.” 

“Can we get a puppy, Zee?” Safaa asks as a few fluffy Samoyeds pass by them. “Please?” 

“Honestly bub, we can barely take care of Wali as it is.” Zayn makes her bounce a couple inches into the air. 

“Put me down,” Safaa kicks, sliding off Zayn’s back and gripping his hand like she’s his protector. “I’m gonna walk.” 

They go up the mild incline together before the path bends around a corner, “Oh, your shoes are untied,” Zayn notices and quickly kneels down to remake both of the bows on her little Nikes. 

“Zee,” 

“Hm? Too tight?” 

“It’s your boyfriend,” says Safaa, sounding excited. “He has a puppy!” She starts running and Zayn nearly falls back in the dirt. 

“What.” Zayn just sits there, exhausted, it’s already too much of shock seeing Safaa peel away from him, but to ramp it up, fucking Harry is coming down the mountain wearing a tight gym shirt and holding the leash of the cutest goddamn golden retriever Zayn’s ever seen. 

“Hi, little one,” Harry pulls his earphones out and smiles brightly, getting on one knee. “I didn’t know you and your brother hiked,” He looks a Zayn, smiling at the sight of his fitbit. He turns back to Safaa, “I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself, I’m Harry.” 

“M’names Safaa,” She says shyly, poking the dog’s side and runs away to hide behind Zayn’s leg, squeaking in anxiety. 

All Zayn had wanted was to lose a few pounds. “What are you doing here?” 

“Nice to see you too,” Harry comes closer. “This is Hippo. She’s very nice, Safaa, you can pat her head.” 

“You’re so following me. You’re not the kind of person to drive fifty minutes just to walk their dog on a city hiking trail. You live in the forest, for god’s sake,” Zayn rubbed at his temples. 

“Excuse you, I was here first,” Harry looks smug, “You were so following me.” 

“Pat the puppy’s head, Safaa,” Zayn straight up ignores him and looks down at his little sister. “It’s okay, bub.” 

Safaa looks unconvinced, but manages to extend one arm out towards the dog, who licks it and nuzzles her with the side of her face. “Zee, I want a puppy.” 

“Lovely day today,” Harry has this feeling that Zayn hates small talk so, naturally, he initiates it. “It’s hardly ever so sunny yet breezy.” 

“I like your shirt, Harry,” Safaa says confidently, and it makes Zayn’s chest clench in pride despite himself. She lets go of Zayn’s pants with her other hand and leaps at Hippo, hugging the dog by slightly squishing her. 

“Thank you, I was a little afraid it was going to be too small,” Harry looks down and pulls at the stretchy fabric.

“It is too small.” Zayn comments without looking at him. 

“Most shirts can’t fit my shoulders,” Harry hums, “I know, I know, what a horrible bane I live with.” 

Zayn’s cheeks flare up when Harry’s biceps naturally flexed as he moved them. He’s got really, really big hands. 

“I wonder why we keep on running into each other,” Harry smiles when Hippo licks Safaa’s face. “Cute kid.” 

Zayn huffs and picks her up, “Yup, really cute. Usually a lot less bold,” He shoots her a look. “Sorry about that.” 

“No no, Hippo loves babies, she’s real gentle,” Harry fondly rubs the dog’s ear. 

“I’m not a baby,” Safaa retorts, scrunching her face up. 

Harry smiles, “Little one, what size shoes do you wear?” 

“I dunno,” 

“There it is.” Harry shrugs at her, and Zayn hates the way she laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the entire world. 

“Weird,” Zayn places a very firm kiss on her cheek. “You usually hate strangers.” 

Harry motions that they all go down the mountain together, walking right besides Zayn, “You know, I don’t feel like it’s a coincidence that we keep on running into each other.”

“If you say anything about fate, I swear,” Zayn holds onto Safaa tighter. 

Harry lightly moves him to the inside of the path so that he’s not on the side of the edge. It’s very chivalrous and Zayn wants so badly to ignore just how big Harry’s hands are, nearly covering the entire span of his lower back. 

“We should get ice cream,” Harry blurts out of absolutely fucking nowhere. “Don’t you think so, Safaa? Hippo likes ice cream too.” 

Safaa nods before locking her eyes with Zayn’s tense ones, then proceeds to bury her face in his neck. “Ice cream.”

Zayn gives Harry a forced smile, because he’ll have completely ruined his therapeutic brother-sister bonding time if he does anything to break Safaa’s wave of happiness. “Okay, we can go to the park, where the ice cream guy is. Nice and public.” He goes ahead, smiling when Safaa tickles his neck. 

“Can I consider this a breakthrough?” Harry calls out from behind him, and Zayn rolls his eyes. “You can’t deny that you’re intertwined with whatever’s been happening with me.” 

“I can deny it, actually. See? I’m denying it right now,” Zayn makes a face at him once they reach the parking lot, putting Safaa in the backseat and stuffing himself in the front. “Meet ya there.” 

“Maybe you should get a therapy dog,” And of course Harry’s parked only two empty spaces away. “For your little sister.” 

“Why do you act like you can see right through me?” Zayn’s heart is beating way too fast to not show his anxiousness. “Can you like, stop that? It’s freaking me out.” 

Harry sighs, “Listen, I can just tell sometimes. I pick up vibes pretty accurately, one could say that I’ve had an obscene amount of human experience.”

“Stop shrinking me,” Zayn points at him, then passive aggressively turns on his engine. 

Safaa plays with her thumbs in the backseat, “Why don’t you like Harry?” 

“Harry’s weird,” Zayn responds childishly.

“Weird’s not bad. Wali’s weird,” Safaa looks down. 

Zayn takes a deep breath and floors it to the nearby park. By the time he’s wrestled Safaa out of the carseat, Harry and Hippo are already there, waiting for them on the bench next to the ice cream stand. He gives Zayn this look like he’s secretly pleased that he actually came, then stands up in a way that flexed his ab muscles underneath his shirt. 

“Strawberry? Strawberry,” Zayn decides for Safaa, before she even opened her mouth, taking out his wallet and trying not to let his eye twitch when Harry walks right beside him. “I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of friends.” 

Harry snorts, “Yeah, you’re right, actually.” He orders a mini vanilla cone for Hippo, handing it to Safaa so that she could feed it to her. 

They both sit down, watching Safaa plop down on the grass and hold the cone right up in Hippo’s face. 

After a minute, Zayn finds the courage to say something, “I used to have a dog named Rhino, way before either of my sisters were born.” 

“Hm, nice name,” Harry closed his eyes and took in the fresh air. “I think I’ve had seven dogs in total.” 

“Rhino was my only friend too, up until uni,” Zayn gets to his point, “I guess it makes sense you drive fifty minutes to the city to walk your dog, get to be around a lot more people.”

Harry says, “All this noise, the life. It’s almost peaceful.” 

They look at each other, then calmly look away. “Why  _ is it _ just you and your sister, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Zayn gulps, watching Safaa and Hippo roll around together in the grass, “Our parents and older sister died in a car accident two years ago. Saf was only one, and there’s another, Wali, she was just two.”

“And you’ve been raising them by yourself?” Harry frowns, bending forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and look at Zayn. 

Zayn turns to face him, “Not necessarily. Our neighbor, she used to watch me when I was a kid, so she helps out a lot, kind of like an aunt.” 

Harry nods, “It’s incredibly admirable, what you’re doing. You could’ve given them up.” 

Zayn scoffs, “How could you give  _ that _ up?” He tilts his head towards the little girl putting the empty cone upside down onto Hippo’s head. “Honestly, I think I was also afraid that if I did give them up for adoption, they’d eventually find me once they’re grown and be mad that I didn’t even try.” 

Harry’s eyes are so warm, it’s burning Zayn’s whole face and chest. “You’re a good man, Zayn. I can see why the letters chose you.” 

“Gosh, I can’t believe I’m starting to buy into this.” 

“If you help me with this,” Harry points to his eyes, “I promise to grant you one wish, any kind of wish within my capabilities, alright? We also don’t even have to see each other again.”

Zayn opens his mouth to say something, but a scream interrupted his thoughts and they both whipped their heads towards the sound. “Saf?” 

“Hippo!” Safaa cackles, squirming as the puppy licked her cheeks and nose. The scene looks like an ad from ‘The Children’s Place.’

“Maybe I should get a dog,” Zayn thinks out loud, and he swears that he hears Harry snort. Ignoring it, he then goes, “Can I ask you something?” 

“I’m an open book.” 

“Why didn’t you and Louis work out?” 

“Hm,” Harry raises his eyebrows, “For a lot of reasons, actually. But mainly it was that one day we woke up in bed and realized we didn’t want to die next to each other, if we ever did die.” 

“That’s horrible. Also, I’m going to need proof that you are as old as you say.” Zayn, ever the analytics and evidence lover. 

Harry reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, fingering through his many cards up until he reached the very back of the pouches, pulling out a small, laminated black and white photo. “This was a bitch to explain at the print shop.”

Zayn gasps and takes it, because it’s definitely Harry in the photo, standing next to a sitting Louis. On the back, it was dated in extremely historically accurate looking cursive, “April, 1870. Holy shit, you’re wearing a Union uniform.” 

“Did you think I was a Confederate?” Harry chuckles, enjoying Zayn’s fascination. “We took that photo two days before we got married. I remember saving up for months to buy her that dress, cost me a solid three dollars, which was a lot of money back then. One dollar was like thirty dollars now.” 

Zayn lightly touches Louis’ face, “Wow, she looks so pretty.” 

“She is pretty,” Harry snorts, “She comes from a well off family that owned a modest oil monopoly.”

“And what about you?” Zayn hands the photo back, heart in his throat. 

Harry pushes his hair back and smiles, “Poor. My father died of the influenza, so I had to join the army when I was sixteen to support my mother and sister. Started off with cooks and learning how to set up camps, ended up in Lincoln’s secret spy intelligence regiment by the time the war got real.”

“Jesus,” 

“It’s not too bad thinking about it now.” Harry shrugs. 

Zayn disagrees, “It was war. You were a kid.”

“I’ve fought in three wars, Zayn. After the first, you tend to block out all of the bad memories, force yourself to keep the good ones, like the friends you made and when you celebrated your victories,” Harry’s so genuine while saying this, and it makes Zayn want to grab his hand and kiss it. “I mean, jesus, I remember when Spam became a thing. We had to eat it cold out of the can with a spoon.”

“That’s disgusting.” 

“Eh,” Harry whistles for Hippo to come back, praising her when she obeys perfectly. “It was better than porridge because at least you could chew it.”

Zayn jumps when Safaa’s suddenly at his leg, pulling at his pants to tell him she wanted to be picked up. “I still don’t know if I can help you, Harry. I don’t know anything about anything, and I’m sorry. I wish I could.” He stands up, and his arms are shaking just a little, his head spinning. 

“It’s alright,” Harry’s so kind about it and it only fills him with even more guilt. “I understand.” 

As Zayn wordlessly walks away, he’s reminded of his rudeness when Safaa calls out, “Bye, Harry. Bye, Hippo! I love you!” 

“Bye, Harry,” he can’t believe he nearly forgot. “Uh, talk to you later—soon? Fuck.”

Harry smiles, and his eyes flash. “Sure, Bambi. I hope you got your steps in.” 

At that, Zayn’s eyes widened to the size of plates and he visibly recoiled, speed walking away with Safaa jostling about in his arms. Holy shit. Holy shit.  _ Holy shit _ . 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment on what you think will happen :) you will probably be wrong bet


	3. so close but so far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Zayn bolts up and runs to the kitchen, digging his phone out of his pocket so quickly it nearly slips and flies out of his hand. He furiously types the phone number in, holding it to his ear and not even hesitating when he realizes it’s 3 in the morning._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNEDITED.  
> Also, I’ll be posting a new chapter every 100 hits.

A couple more weeks pass by without Zayn running into Harry, and dare he say it, he’s starting to get a little disappointed. Not because he’s in love with him or anything undeniably embarrassing like that, but he couldn’t actually articulate a different reason. 

What Harry said about the weather, he was right. The weather was incredibly nice, sunny yet still breezy, not too hot, not too cold, and Zayn thinks this is the first time he’s been outside so much with his sisters since they were born. 

He kind of wonders what Harry does with all his time, but then again, it wasn’t his business nor his responsibility to keep him in mind. In fact, he has no reason to keep thinking about the mystery man—who still very well could be a murderer, mind you, with the long eyelashes, nice cheekbones, and big, big hands. 

“What are you even learning in Preschool, Wali?” He asks, twirling his pasta with his fork. “Numbers? Letters?” 

Waliyha nods, “We’re up to ‘r.’”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Zayn admired, “They let you sleep enough?” 

“We have nap time,” Waliyha says while getting sauce on her mouth. This time her row was with potatoes and no one knows why. “And snack time.”

“Love snack time,” Zayn nods and coos when Safaa’s sippy cup accidentally opens and spills all over her. “You okay, bub?” 

She’s covered in water and is totally about to start crying, but much to Zayn’s surprise, Wali jumps down from her seat and goes to get paper towels, coming back and patting Safaa down with the whole roll while chiding, “Stop crying.” 

Zayn thinks they’re too smart for him, but maybe they’re just growing up too fast. 

By the end of the night, they begin their nightly ritual where they brush their teeth together, read a few chapters of a book the girls can’t possibly understand yet but does the trick of knocking them out, and Zayn tucks them in their bed, smiling all the while Wali and Saf start to unconsciously curl up with one another. 

Now that he’s alone with his thoughts, which his mother always did say was a dangerous thing, he had one thing ringing in his head. 

_“Started off with cooks and learning how to set up camps, ended up in Lincoln’s secret spy intelligence regiment by the time the war got real.”_

Zayn’s dad used to be such an American History buff, but he’s never heard of President Lincoln having his own secret spy regiment during the Civil War. Once he softly closes the girls’ door, he pads across the living room to the bookshelves, running his fingers across the binding of each book. 

_American His…_

_The Civil Wa…_

_The American Revo…_

_The Civil Rights Mo…_

_The Cold Wa…_

His finger stops on a book with a binding so tattered and messed up that it didn’t even have its title anymore, so when he pulls it out and looks right at the cover, he brushes off the dust and gasps. 

_Brannan Family History._

On his mother’s side, the family tree goes back hundreds of years, up from the medieval times when they were still in England, which explained why their surname was listed as “Brannan” instead of “Brannon,” the modernized American form. This is something he’s always known, but he had never noticed the physical book until now. Strangely enough, it was the exact same color as the bookshelf and blended in way too perfectly. How was it that he passed by it his entire life and never really noticed it was there? 

He begins to read off the names and finger over the gold crested patterns lining the margins, all handwritten with hours of care placed into each letter. As he slowly worked his way farther and farther, he came across a name that seemed awfully Celtic, and the crest became something completely different, almost like a pagan sigil. This was six generations ago. 

Upon turning the next to the next page, several pieces of loose paper fell down onto the floor, they were yellow and dried up at the edges, dried stains of what looked to be mud and blood littering its surface. 

Zayn set the book down and picked up the papers, squinting very hard at the handwriting until he could make out a name, Elizabeth Wright. The one he was currently holding was dated April 1st, 1861. 

Zayn felt bad about intruding on someone’s private letters, but seeing as how they were dead, he figured his ancestors wouldn’t mind. This was an amazing find as it was. 

“To my darling Lizzie,” Zayn awed, “That’s cute.” He continued, “I am afraid I will not be able to return home as we had hoped for so many years. The election has stirred up too much political unrest as it is, and the Union generals fear that Lincoln’s inevitable victory will spark an outright war. I am in good health, and I am sure you are too. Please tell Ambrose that I love him and am very excited to meet the young man he will be upon my return. With all my love, James.”

Zayn exhaled shakily, “Holy shit.” That was the only clean letter, the rest, it seemed, were sent with mud splatters and tears. He picked the book back up and tried to find this illustrious James, skimming up the old names from the 1800s and stopping when he saw it, not just the name, which read “James Ambrose Brannon,” but also the crest next to it, a celtic-looking sigil of an encircled tree. Born January 12th, 1838, died May 1865. 

“May 1865,” Zayn whispered to himself, “May...1865. There isn’t a specific date?” He blinked at it, eyebrows furrowed, and before he could look further into it, the floorboards ahead of him creaked, making him look up.

“Zee,” Waliyha shyly holds her stuffed bunny to her chest and nervously plays with its ear. “Hi.”

“Hi bud,” Zayn sweeps the letters underneath him, “Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

Waliyha walks over and plops down on his lap. “Why aren’t _you_ sleeping?” 

“Fair enough,” Zayn chuckled, rocking her back and forth. “Why can’t you sleep?” 

“Dunno,” She curled in and held his shirt tightly in her fist. “Just can’t.” 

“Okay,” Zayn sighed, putting her down so he could stand. “Maybe you just need some hot tea.” 

“What’s these?” Waliyha asks, her bad grammar is so cute. Waliyha holds up the letters. “This look like the paper under the door.”

“Where _did_ you find that, by the way?” Zayn gently takes them from her, gingerly putting them back into the book and putting it away. “You know, whenever I couldn’t sleep, mom would warm up milk and stir in a little, little bit of honey. It’d knock me right out.” 

“It was just under the mat,” Wali explained. “Is it a phone number?” 

“Yes, it is,” Zayn sighed, “And none of your business.”

“Did you call it?” 

“No, and I’m not going to,” Zayn sets a mug down in front of her. “Time for you to get sleepy.” 

“Then why do you keep it on the fridge?” She asks intelligently, “Do I call it?” 

They exchanged looks for a minute as she innocently sipped on her milk, blinks slowing down. “Stop attacking me, you’re four.” She burst out laughing, making her milk splatter everywhere, covering both her and Zayn’s faces. 

“Alright,” He exhaled, “You’re going back to bed, you menace.” She jumps off the chair and pouts. 

“Sorry, Zee.” 

“No you’re not,” He sing-songed back, looking at the piece of paper stuck on the refrigerator by a dog magnet. “You plague me so,” He tells the piece of paper like a crazy person. 

With Waliyha teetering to bed, Zayn went back into the living room and went through the letters again. He sifted through the dates until he found the one sequeling the very first and opened it. “Dear Lizzie, 

The president has personally requested for me to lead a separate team of soldiers in an independent project. I initially refused, but after he swore that our family would be in full control of this separate project, promising also hundreds of dollars a year in pension, I found myself unable to resist his call. So far I have carefully selected a few members, one of whom is now my closest friend since my time here in Washington. Since I know your secrecy is far superior than most of the generals I cohabitate with, I will update you frequently on the coming initiatives and plans, so that in some way, we will always be together…” 

Zayn unfolded the next one, “...Lizzie, I am afraid I may not be able to write to you for a little bit, as it is much too risky to do so while I am stationed in the enemy camp…” 

He drops it one after the other, skimming as fast as he could. “My friend insisted that our code names be after flowers, which I heavily advised against because of its effeminate nature. He finally convinced me when he pointed out that it would be the most secure form of secret communication, and this way there would be no chance of our identities being revealed. When I told him that I am originally Irish, he asked if I had any favorite flowers from Ireland, even though I have actually never been. I did recall my grandmother telling of stories of her homeland, of the lush squills and a flower called the wild cherry. I suppose I am pleased to tell you that he is now Wild Cherry, and I Hydrangea, as he was born in New England and they grow prominently there. Never have I ever met a man, Lizzie, that had such a passion for both botany and artillery within the same vessel…”

Zayn bolts up and runs to the kitchen, digging his phone out of his pocket so quickly it nearly slips and flies out of his hand. He furiously types the phone number in, holding it to his ear and not even hesitating when he realizes it’s 3 in the morning. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi—hi,” Zayn forced out, adrenaline rushing through his veins. “So it’s Zayn and uh, I just needed to ask like, uh, um,”

“Yes?” Harry sounded like he was talking through a smile. 

“Oh fuck off,” Zayn hung up, then called promptly after. “What was the name of your regiment when you—you—fuck, I can’t even believe I’m saying this, when you were in the Civil War?” 

Harry hummed, “It was called the Massachusetts Lugh Patriotic Intelligence. How’s your night?” 

“Okaybyebye—“ Zayn hung up again and ran back into the living room, sifting through the rest of the letters. By the time he finished reading all of them, James still hadn’t mentioned the name of his best friend nor the name of the secret project he was leading. In fact, the last letter that was sent to Elizabeth was from the colonel himself, apologizing for her loss and how he was “missing in action.”

Before he knew it, his head was gently lolling around until it met the floor, and he fell into a deep and intense sleep. 

* * *

“We did it, friends. The war has been won,” James sighs happily, clutching at his own chest. “We can finally go home.” 

Freddy scoffs, “Yeah, if we can even make it there. We’re forty miles from the border and there’s still going to be some hostiles wandering around the camp.” 

“Yeah,” Adam agrees, “Can’t exactly just walk out wearing blue and gray.” 

James shakes his head at them, “Are you not men? What’s a little forest to that of the devil guiding the fields to secession? Have we not crossed oceans together, jumped out of trains in the thick of battle, smiled at the devil himself when he asked where our loyalty lies?” He slowly moves through the crowd of men, grabbing their shoulders to boost the morale. 

“You, sir, are the most God fearing man I have ever met,” Adam laughs, taking a swig from his flask. “Maybe _your_ name should be Adam.” 

Freddy snorts and bellows out in deep laughter, “Now that’s hilarious.” 

“I think you forget that Adam was the first sinner,” James chides, folding his garments up neatly and brushing his hair out of his face. “Come on, we can’t leave a single trace that we were here.” 

“Wasn’t Eve the first sinner?” Adam asks, “I feel I would know.” 

“Stop with the Creation jokes,” Gabriel chucks a pillow at him. “They died forty hours ago, and I need to sleep lest I try and murder one of you.” 

James ruffles Gabriel’s hair, “Well, sure, Eve was the first sinner, but she was also the very first to ever encounter the devil. If you were a truly innocent man, would you have ever expected a garden so beautiful to hide such an awful evil? Yes, she went against the word of the Lord, but she then bore all of Adam’s children and is mother to us all,” He shrugs, “Adam wasn’t tempted by her, he was just a foolish carrier of trust in an environment where he believed to be no evil. Is it not his fault for not protecting Eve?” 

“Well, when you put it that way,” Freddy drags, and Adam howls when Freddy mimics James’ hand movements as though he were a preacher with an Irish accent. “ _I am Reverend James and I do not drink nor curse nor fornicate, for the devil has my neck in his grasp and the Lord is the only thing keepin’ me from hanging,_ ”

“Shut your trap,” A new voice pierced through the commotion, and everyone quickly zipped their mouths. “James is the man that will take us home, if you speak ill of him you’ll never see Betty or Bea again. We will be cursed with a storm.” 

“Hush, you,” Adam groaned, “Who’re you to speak of our wives when yours calls you ‘Cherry?” 

* * *

Mrs. Wilson took the girls at eight, leaving him a note on the dining table and a blanket to cover his body. When the back door closed, Zayn sat up so abruptly his brain spun. “What the shit?” He said out loud, panting heavily. “What the actual shit?” 

Zayn called Harry again, this time making sure to also save his number as a contact, huffing when the line rang for three seconds too long. “Hello?” 

“Harry,” Zayn’s heart began to race. “I think we should meet up.” 

“Oh, uh,” Harry sounded tired, and his voice was low and gruff like he had just woken up. Zayn felt bad for waking him, but he also found much pleasure in listening to what Harry’s morning voice would be if they were in bed—“Sure. I’ll drop by soon, I just need to,” He yawned, “Take care of some stuff first.”

“We can—can,” Zayn huffed, “We can meet in the park. Where the ice cream guy is.” 

Harry laughed in his chest, and fuck, it was all growly and scratchy and Zayn wanted nothing more than to stuff his tongue down his throat. “Alright, Bambi. At 11.”

“Stop calling me Bambi.” 

“I thought it was better than calling you a girl.” 

Zayn groaned, “Not in that context, stupid.” 

Harry laughed again and it made Zayn’s eyes slightly roll back, “Alright, fine, whatever you want, your highness.” 

* * *

“Have you changed your mind, then?” That was Harry’s starter as soon as Zayn appeared in the distance, wearing an extremely baggy hoodie and some ratty old sweatpants. “Or did you just want to see me?” 

Zayn guffawed, “See you? Please,” He looked Harry up and down and quickly compared their outfits. Whilst Zayn looked like he just rolled out of bed, Harry was wearing a long dark coat, shiny shoes, his shirt and pants looked ironed. “I didn’t know we were dressing up.”

“This is how I normally look,” Harry laughed, motioning for Zayn to walk with him. “I do go to work, you see.”

“What kind of work?” Zayn squinted at him, “Don’t people question why you never age?” 

Harry smiled, “What a loaded question. I’ll say that it involves a lot of lying, false identities, and doing most of it through my employees.” 

Zayn was unconvinced still, but he chimed, “Sounds exhausting.” 

“So is spending time with someone who doesn’t believe you.” Harry raised his eyebrow at Zayn, relishing in the way it made him blush from ear to ear. 

“It’s not—well,” Zayn stuttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he tried to keep up with Harry’s ridiculous gait. “It’s not that easy to believe, I guess.” 

Harry hummed, “You look like you haven’t slept.” 

“Yeah, I kind of stayed up all night researching the Civil War,” Zayn scratched the back of his head and avoided Harry’s gaze. “My dad had so many books on it, I didn’t even realize until now.” 

“That’s very endearing of you,” Harry whispered in his ear. “I honestly thought you were just going to leave me in the dust and never talk to me again. Does this mean you’re willing to help me?” 

Zayn kicked a rock, “It means you’ve mildly piqued my interest.” 

“You know, you are the first one that’s taken this long to believe. The rest usually scrammed once they saw my eyes do weird things, or they got too involved and tried to find a way to control the power I guess I have.” Harry blocked Zayn with his arm when a cyclist traveled by, the contact running a shiver down the latter’s spine. 

“The bikes don’t make any sense to me,” Zayn said after the danger was gone. “It makes the least sense out all of this.” 

Harry snorted, “You’re telling me?”

“Should we...stop talking about it for now?” Zayn asked tentatively, wriggling his thumbs in his pockets. “I could go for a coffee.” 

Harry smiled at him, yet again like he wasn’t expecting to hear what Zayn just said, “We should. The day is far too lovely to not sit under a tree and sip some coffee.”

“Huh,” Zayn said as he pointed to a nearby cafe. “This might be the first thing we’ve done that makes sense.” 

“Cheers to that,” Harry hummed, “What’d you like? I’ll get it this time,” 

“This time? There’ll be a next time?” Zayn questioned and instantly regretted it, mentally slapping himself. What the hell is he doing, flirting with this man? “Thank you.” 

“It’s my pleasure,” Harry said honestly. “I like talking to you, even when you get all catty at me. I feel like I haven’t talked to anyone like you in so long, I’ve forgotten what it felt like to banter and be pushed back.” 

“Glad to know my annoying nature is supplementing you a specific part of humanity,” Zayn joked, standing idly in the waiting area. “Do you really not have any friends?” 

“I talk to my dog sometimes,” 

“Harry, that’s sad,” Zayn gave him a look. “You’re an interesting enough dude, I’m sure you could make friends if you tried.” 

“The only friends I can make are the ones that know about me, Zayn,” Harry shrugged, tapping his feet to the rhythm of the background music. “All those who’ve come before you would rather pretend like I didn’t exist than continue to talk to me once they realized they couldn’t break the curse.”

“I don’t understand. If it’s a curse, why did everyone treat you like you were some kind of valuable object? It’s not like magic can be harnessed—well, I’m assuming, anyways,” Zayn rushed to pick up their order before Harry could register the barista was calling his name, walking back with a smile on his face. “It’s like, really hot, so be careful.”

Harry shrugged as he took his cup, “If they really were my soulmate, maybe there’s a way to control it. Like some kind of power move, being chosen by the letters and all. You’re the only one who’s pushed me away more than once.” 

“I think you’re flattering yourself; you’re not that alluring and addictive, Harry.” Zayn laughed, holding the door open as they walked out. 

“Well you are. I think this is the first time anyone’s ever held the door open for me.” Harry knew exactly how to make Zayn red again. 

Zayn hummed and looked down. “Can I be honest with you about something?”

“Of course you can.” 

“Ever since I met you, I’ve been feeling this buzz, like I’m always ready to go and ready to do everything all at once. I exercised for the first time in weeks, made something other than pasta and boiled edamame beans, and I read for the first time in what feels like years,” Zayn shook his head, “I don’t know what it is. I think something’s trying to tell me that you’re a genuine guy, and I’m neurotic about helping people, but I dunno. I get really, really nervous around you.” 

“I can tell.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Zayn narrowed his eyes and sighed. “And to think that a few weeks ago I was just an accountant. Now I feel...a little, more? If that makes sense?” 

Harry nodded, “Honestly Zayn, I don’t think you were ever just an accountant. You’re so much more than what I am, and I’ve lived almost 200 years.” 

Zayn beamed, “Wow, that’s like a really nice compliment.”

“I know,” Harry poked him with his elbow and Zayn’s lungs just completely collapsed. He smelled so expensive, it was addicting. “Uh, I,” 

“Yeah?” Zayn looked up at him, softly batting his lashes and twisting his head to one side. 

“I’ve been like, going to the hiking trail a lot lately, like every day,” Harry said sheepishly, “God, I’m sorry. That sounds creepy—uh, I’ve been hoping to run into you, is what I’m trying to say.” 

“Oh,” Zayn looked back down at his feet, really hoping Harry didn’t catch his expression of pure panic. “Me—me, me too.” He snapped his head back up after realizing something, “You’ve been driving an hour to the city every day for the last three and a half weeks?” 

“It’s been three and a half weeks?” Harry asked, eyes widening. “I guess I have.” 

“I did change my mind,” Zayn said suddenly, grabbing onto Harry’s shirt to make him stop. “I realized that my life has gotten a bit better since meeting you, and you were able to make Saf laugh, and…” 

Harry removed Zayn’s hand gently and intertwined their fingers. “That’s like, a really nice compliment,” He mimicked, making Zayn scrunch his eyebrows up in a giggle. 

“I have a lot of books that we can do research with. In fact, I think I have an ancestor that was in the Civil War and I have he and his wife’s personal letters. And a lot of other stuff,” He could hear his heart beating everywhere, in his ears, in his blood, in his tongue, it was insane. “So if you’d like to come over sometime, I’d be really—very happy to have you.” 

Harry’s eyes smiled at him, his lips trying really hard not to. They casually walked a few more paces with their hands gripped onto each other until they reached the ice cream stand and realized they had just walked a full circle around the park. “I would like to.” 

“Great!” Zayn blurted out a bit too soon. “Fantastic.” 

“When?” Harry asked with the same amount of excitement, the mood between them immediately turning more awkward. 

“D’you wanna,” Zayn pointed behind him even though there was nothing there. “Mrs. Dubs is dropping the girls off in a little bit so,” 

“Oh of course, yeah,” Harry nodded robotically, motioning for Zayn to go ahead. They both slowly nodded at each other, trying to decrypt their sign language and facial expressions, neither of them moving their feet. “Right,” Harry said out of nowhere, just to buffer the silence that has sliced through them. 

“So you wanna,” Zayn made another ambiguous hand motion, Harry reacting in visible confusion. “Go...with—with me?” 

“Oh, like, right now?” Harry jumped, blinking quickly and wiping his now clammy hands on his coat. “To your—to your,” 

“Place, yeah,” Zayn finished, then put his hands up and shook them, “But only if you want to, I mean, I’m not gonna force you to come if you don’t want—“ 

“I want to,” Harry cut him off, smiling a little bit as he messed with his own hair. “Only if it’s no trouble,” 

“Jesus Christ,” The ice cream guy shouted at them. “Would you leave already?” 

“Sorry,” Zayn called out, embarrassed out of his mind and cringing at how multiple moms were giggling and gossiping in their direction. “Let’s, let’s,” He grabbed Harry’s hand authoritatively, trying not to register how small his hand was compared to his. “Let’s go.” 

Harry nodded, lips glued shut, and together they walked to the parking lot. “Do you remember my address?” 

“Yeah, or at least I think my phone remembers,” Harry laughed, but he looked extremely nervous and anxious while saying it. “Uh, so I’ll meet you there.” 

“Okay,” Zayn cracked a smile, which looked oddly demented and constipated at the same time, “See you.” They jumped into their respective cars simultaneously, then inadvertently made it a race to see who could leave the lot faster.

* * *

“Hey, bubs,” Zayn bent down and scooped both of his sisters up in each arm. “What’d you do with Mrs. Dubs today?”

“We make cookies,” Safaa babbled, clearly in the aftershocks of a glorious sugar high. “Nap.” 

“Did you bring some home?” Zayn was genuinely asking, “Cause uh, we’re having a guest over.”

“What’s a ‘guest?’” Waliyha asked, sounding very tired. 

“D’you remember Harry, Saf? He’s coming over,” Zayn bounced her, but she just groaned and rolled over onto the couch. 

“Who’s hairy?” Waliyha asked, grabbing fistfuls of her beautiful dark locks. “I’m hairy.” 

“No no, Harry’s a person,” Zayn explained kindly, making her release her hair and petting it softly. “You haven’t met him yet, don’t fall asleep.” 

“Mmm.” 

He sighed, placing them next to each other on the L-seat and covered them with a blanket. “Must be nice being three.” 

Just as he said it, a knock on the door erupted his dazed train of thought, popping the bubble of cute baby fluff that was riddled in his head. “Oh, shit.” 

“Hi,” Zayn yelled as he swung open the door, creating a large gust of wind to blow his hair back. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Harry chuckled, a little startled. “I’m glad I got the right house.” 

“Mhm, yup,” Zayn agreed, moving to the side to let him in. “Be careful, there are toddlers on the couch.” 

Harry gasped softly, so faint that Zayn nearly missed it in his haste to run away somewhere. “They look nearly identical.” 

“Only a year apart,” Zayn laughed at the sight, a giant man fawning over two little babies. “You look like those videos when couples bring their baby home to meet their dog.”

Harry blushed and fiddled with his sleeves. “Stop, would you?” 

“I’ll make tea, come, come,” Zayn beckoned, helping Harry shed his coat and tossing it on the other end of the couch. “Sorry about the mess, little kids throw things wherever they want.” 

“Do little kids also files taxes?” Harry asked, holding a sheet of paper that had fallen from the kitchen table in a messy and unorganized pile. 

Zayn squeaked and took it from him, “Sorry, that’s confidential!” He swept the piles of papers to the side and motioned for Harry to sit. 

“Your home is very lovely,” Harry said as he looked around, smiling softly at the pictures of Zayn and his family on the walls. “Is that…?” 

Zayn turned to him after he set the kettle on the stove. “Yeah, that was way before either Saf or Wali were born. That’s Doniya, the eldest,” Zayn said, a bit remorseful, but still fond and full of nostalgia. “Family trip.” 

Harry’s fingers ghosted over the photo, “This is truly a gift. I wish I had been able to photograph all of my family.” 

Zayn blinked, unable to say anything, so instead he took Harry’s hand. “Do you want to look at more?” After his eager nod, he led them back into the living room to the bookshelves. “Here it is, my baby pictures. You better not laugh.” 

“Why would I? I’m betting you were an angel,” Harry poked him with his elbow, and even though his tone was joking, the way he took it from Zayn’s hands said something totally different, like it was a sensitive artifact about to shatter at any moment. “Your mother was beautiful.” 

“She was, wasn’t she?” Zayn hummed. 

“These pictures, they’re all so,” Harry contemplated the word, “They’re all so real. As though it was just a snippet of a life, not posed or anything, just there your mother is in the background as your father holds you up for the camera, there’s you sitting in your father’s lap as Doniya waves. You’re not even looking at the camera in this one, that’s so incredibly foreign to me.” 

Harry looked so happy and fascinated, Zayn nearly got over the pain of seeing his late family so soon just from the way he was reacting. 

“Somehow, I feel like you’re talking like they’re still here,” 

Harry inhaled sharply, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“No no,” Zayn gulped back a tear. “I like it a lot. I know you of all people would understand.”

Harry nodded, “Yes, but I’ve also had a lot longer to move on from it. It’s alright to cry, you shouldn’t feel like you need to hold it in.” 

“Who says I want to cry?” Zayn shook his head stubbornly, looking away. 

“Again, I can just tell.” Harry continued to flip through the album, breath getting deeper with each photo, like a memory of a life he’s never lived but it feels like he has. 

“Oh, the kettle’s screaming,” Zayn sighed, knees cracking as he stood up and bustled back over to the kitchen. “Black is fine with you?” 

“Black is perfect,” Harry replied, trying to stay remotely quiet whilst Zayn’s sisters slept so soundly behind him. “Safaa and Waliyha, was it?” 

“Yeah,” Zayn sighed as he plopped back down next to Harry on the living room floor, cocking his head curiously when Harry looked at his little sisters like he was at the aquarium. “I’m thinking you like kids, huh?” 

Harry went red and shifted away slightly, “I’ve always wanted kids.” 

“Why didn’t you have any?” Zayn asked, shifting closer when Harry did. The atmosphere was quickly getting suffocating and warm between their bodies, as though the walls were coming closer and leaving them to be as pressed up as possible. 

“I wouldn’t bring a kid in this world knowing I’d probably outlive them,” Harry gulped, bottom lip quivering slightly before pulling away from Zayn’s intense gaze. “That’s morbid. Sorry.” 

“Makes sense,” Zayn nodded. “You’re so good with them.” 

“I used to volunteer at this women’s shelter where they’d have a daycare for all the kids, and I’d teach them and do arts and crafts and stuff.” Harry jumped slightly when Safaa snorted and rolled over onto her stomach, hand slapping the back of Waliyha’s calf. 

Zayn smiled at the thought of giant Harry crouching in a tiny chair whilst cutting snowflakes with tiny kid scissors. “You’re so cute,” He said without thinking, immediately regretting it when Harry looked back at him in shock. “Oh god, sorry, I meant, I, well.” 

His ears were red, the poor thing, and he was terrified that Zayn could hear his heart beating out of his chest, “Uh, war research? History books?” 

“Yeah!” Zayn blurted a bit too loudly, causing Waliyha to mumble in her sleep. “They’re over here,” He whispered, ducking his head slightly towards Harry as to not make any drastic noises. He pointed to the bookshelf, standing up and padding over to it. 

“This is quite the collection,” Harry mumbled, fingertips sliding across the spines. “It’s really impressive.” 

“M’dad really loved History, he was actually a high school teacher,” Zayn reminisced, “He always made sure that we never forgot how our actions have consequences.” 

“What’s this?” Harry pointed to the top shelf, where Lizzie’s diary and letters were kept, and Zayn nodded in remembrance, “It looks quite sensitive.” 

“Yeah, that’s actually what I wanted to show you, if I could just—“ He jumped up to grab it, failing the first couple of times before grabbing it, Harry awkwardly standing behind him and not helping as to not seem patronizing. “There, finally.” 

The second he turned around, a loud smack and a wail punched the peace and calm out of the way, goosebumps rising up on Harry’s arms. They turned around to see Safaa and Waliyha sobbing and shoving at each other, hair disheveled and expressions looking extremely distressed. “Jesus Christ,” Zayn set the book down on one of the lower shelves, rushing over to pry his sisters apart. “Agh, don’t scratch me, god, Harry, could you get Saf?” 

“Is that okay?” Harry asked in disbelief, wondering how someone could trust him to hold such a vulnerable and tiny human, seeing as how most mothers looked at him as though he would eat them. 

“Yes, please, ugh.” Zayn yanked Waliyha up into his arms, firmly reprimanding her on why she shouldn’t engage in unfair fights. 

“Little one,” Harry asked softly, outstretching his arms towards Safaa, who was still wailing loudly with a light pink mark on her cheek. “What happened?” He tried not to smile when she reached out towards him and stuffed her face in his neck, screeching wetly into his skin. “It’s alright,” 

“Sa—Saf—Saf _kicked_ me!” Waliyha shrieked, hiccuping while holding onto Zayn’s finger tightly. 

“No!” Safaa retorted, screaming right into Harry’s ear. 

“Jesus, it doesn’t matter,” Zayn told the both of them, his tone becoming very rigid and accented with clear diction. “You do not start hitting each other, that’s called being terrible people.” 

“Oh, Zayn,” Harry winced slightly, “They’re not terrible, not yet, at least. You just don’t have the words when you’re placed in a state of shock,” He said while looking at Safaa, her nodding in agreement just by hearing his gentle voice. “You can’t hit your sister, little one. She’s the only one you’ve got, yeah?” 

“You are literally twice her size, Wali,” Zayn was arguing with the other one in another corner, still rocking and bouncing her back and forth to get her to calm down. “Stop starting fights because you know you’d win.” 

Harry cooed when Safaa blubbered, “It’s okay. Did you kick Waliyha, Safaa?” 

“No!” She repeated, adamant and getting red because of it. Harry started to pet her head kind of like how you would a puppy, and the weirdness of that alone was enough to get Safaa’s loud cries to diminish slowly into confused whimpers. “I’m sleepy.” 

“I know, little one,” Harry consoled, sounding deeply concerned about her troubles. Zayn, on the other hand, was high-fiving himself when Wali got over herself and let herself be lulled back to sleep, sighing gratefully. 

When they reconvened by the L-seat, Harry was curiously running the side of his index finger across Safaa’s cheek, but it was so delicate and faint that she scrunched her face up and made a disapproving sound, “Bleh, tickles.”

“Sorry,” Harry inhaled sharply, eyes bugging out of his head at the thought of him upsetting Safaa. His curly hair was falling along the sides of his face and his shoulders were hunched over trying to make himself smaller. It was too adorable for words. 

“I think they should finish their name in their room,” Zayn said after a while, giggling at how Harry jumped. “Careful, she’ll fall over,” He lifted his chin towards Safaa, whose eyes were closed and dangerously swaying back and forth. Harry grabbed her and held her still, resulting in Zayn snorting and shaking his head. “Not quite, you should pick her up. She’ll get really nervous if you don’t hug her.”

“Okay,” Harry took her into his embrace, softly rubbing her back. “She’s so cute.”

“Yeah,” Zayn said it like he was obligated to, “Don’t want her to keep growing. They’re cute when they’re all little and soft, but then they start talking back at you and are justified in doing so.” 

“Hm,” Harry followed Zayn as they walked down the hallway, creeping into the bedroom, “Wow, this is a lot of pink.” 

“Yup,” Zayn laughed, setting Waliyha down on the bed and reaching for Safaa from Harry’s grasp. “It was my mom’s favorite color.” As soon as they were laid next to each other again, it was as though nothing ever happened, finding each other’s limbs, then quickly tangling and hugging. 

Harry looked like he was melting, “Oh my god, that’s the most precious thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“C’mon,” Zayn whispered, hands ghosting over each other. “Let’s get back to what we were doing.”

“Okay,” Harry whispered back, biting his bottom lip as he let Zayn lead him back to the bookshelf, picking the journal up again. “This looks really sensitive. Are you sure I shouldn’t be using gloves?” 

“Actually?” Zayn scratched his head, “I didn’t even think about that.” Harry made a pained noise at that, putting the journal down onto the coffee table like it was cursed. “Oh, come on,” 

Zayn lifted it back up, “I found some weird things in this the other day, like with my family and stuff,” Now Harry was staring off into the distance, and turning around he realized he was looking right at the clock on the wall. “Harry? You good?” 

“Yeah, uh,” Harry’s eyes snapped back to him, pupils blown wide and a disconcerted expression washed over his face. “Hey, can I kiss you?” 

_What._

_What?_

“What?” Zayn said out loud this time, putting the journal back down again. “Sorry, could you just repeat that—“

Zayn cursed when the kettle then began to scream again and quickly wiggled underneath Harry’s arm to run to the kitchen. “Shit, totally forgot to turn the stove off.”

“It’s okay,” Harry sounded winded, like he was exhausted from thinking and emoting so hard, “Can we, uh,” 

“Yeah, uh,” Zayn stammered, coming back into the living room while sliding his hands very forcefully down the sides of his pants. “You want to…with me?” 

“Yeah,” Harry felt a little more confident, “I have been thinking about you—I mean, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind for weeks now. I know it’s forward and weird and odd and other—other things,”

“Jesus, for someone who’s lived over a century you sure aren’t great at talking,” Zayn jokes, walking forward gingerly. “I haven’t been kissed in a long time, a while, yeah.” 

“Is that supposed to deter me? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Harry reasoned, speaking with his hands and wildly looking at anything but Zayn’s eyes. In that moment, Harry’s flashed in their respective shades of green and blue, and suddenly, Zayn was willing to risk it all. 

“God, you better not have mouth herpes,” He gritted out and grabbed Harry’s face, not only slightly squishing his cheeks but also yanking him down a few inches to reach. “We’re adults, we don’t need to be shy about this.”

Harry exhaled and his lips parted, pink and plump from all that lip-biting he’s been doing, one hand on the small of Zayn’s back and the other being confused for a second before being placed on the other side of his waist. 

Their lips met and it was wonderful. To be honest, his entire life Zayn had been having tall expectations for everyone’s ever dated when it came to this moment; getting so close that their foreheads touched and their noses awkwardly bumped against one another. Harry smelled so good, like soap and aftershave, which was a true testament to his hygiene, honestly. 

(There is nothing sexier about a man that impeccable personal hygiene, Zayn can tell you that much. Other than that, he’s absolute shit at dating.) 

Dating? Does Zayn want to date this fool? They pulled back and immediately swallowed their fears back down into their stomachs, breathing hard through their noses and in shock of what they just did. 

When they finally calmed down and Harry removed his hands from Zayn’s body and he from his neck, Harry looked at the clock again. “Why’re you checking the time?” 

“Your eyes didn’t change,” Harry observed absentmindedly. “Maybe it’s not you after all.” 

_What._

_What?_

“Wait,” Zayn stepped back and nearly tripped off the ottoman. “You kissed me just to see if I’d get trapped in some fucked up spell bond with you?” 

“No, not—not really,” Harry winced, and Zayn rolled his eyes in disbelief. “When you say it like that,” 

“Oh my god, you dick!” Zayn cursed, shaking his head. “You’re not even remotely interested in me, are you? You’re just acting to see if you think you could do something with me. You wouldn’t fall in love with me if I wasn’t what the spell wants for you.” 

“Zayn, that’s not—“ 

“No, honestly,” Zayn clenched his fists and looked away. “God, I’m such an idiot.” 

“I need to go,” Harry added quickly, looking very guilty and remorseful. “I’m, I’m so sorry, Zayn. I truly didn’t mean to do it like this.” 

“Is that why you’re looking at the clock?” Zayn mumbled, tears threatening to fall from the corners of his eyes. “Oh, I get it.” He rolled them to prevent the embarrassing sobbing he was definitely going to release the second Harry walked out the door. “You need to feed your dog.”

Harry picked up his coat, “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” 

Zayn grabbed his own hair and let out a pursed breath, “Trust me, I’m sorry about it too.” 

“I didn’t just kiss you because of this stupid curse,” Harry tried to explain, but Zayn was still in the moment of being incredibly hurt and feeling used. “Honest.”

He bit his lip again before leaving, closing the door as gently as he could. Before he knew it, Harry’s car lights were blinking to life and he was pulling out of Zayn’s driveway. 

The first thing Zayn wanted to do was throw the journal across the room, as he had a habit of throwing things when he got angry, but he physically stopped himself with the other hand and instead ran to the bathroom. 

He inspected his eyes, which were the same color of black brown and they had never looked uglier. He turned away before he could see, but in the millisecond he pulled away from the mirror, there was a brief moment of when one of them twitched slightly to a tinge of green before blipping back to brown when the first tear rolled down his cheek. 

(At this point, it had been two and a half months since he first met Harry. Zayn’s ready to give up on falling in love forever.) 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think will happen next? Ten bucks that you’re wrong.  
> -j


	4. francesca louis tomlinson: a work of art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEVERELY UNEDITED, PROBABLY BAD

“Can you get out?” 

She looked at Zayn with one eyebrow raised, “C’mon, you’re happy to see me.”

“You’re trespassing into my house,” Zayn yanked at his hair exaggeratedly, pacing around the threshold with one hand still wrapped around the doorknob. “Please leave.” 

“Safaa! Sa...faa!” Louis cooed, voice going half an octave higher as she bounced Safaa around on the couch. “You’ve gotten so big, haven’t you, love?” 

Safaa shrieked in delight, finding it all very amusing how the pretty lady was making her brother leap about like a bunny. She also smelled very nice and bought her oreos. 

“Listen,” Louis looked over at Zayn with a smile, “I know we haven’t gotten off on the right start, per say,” 

“Per say?” Zayn scoffed. “You basically kidnapped me.”

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me?” Louis cocked her head to the side, Safaa copying her adorably. “You wouldn’t have met such a stud if it wasn’t for me.”

Zayn flamed, his left eye twitching uncontrollably. “That’s your ex-husband you’re talking about, and no.”

“Oh, he told you, then?” Louis smirked, sitting Safaa down on her lap in a very comfortable seated position, patting the spot next to them. “C’mere, come to Lou.”

“Gross.” Zayn crossed his arms and plopped down at the far end of the couch. 

“Is he not your type? He’s usually people’s types, the letters wouldn’t have chosen you if he wasn’t,” Louis pondered out loud, the vein in Zayn’s neck bulging from how the amount of tension he was creating in his jaw. “He hasn’t talked to me in weeks.”

“I thought he hated you.”

“No, he doesn’t  _ like _ me,” Louis corrected, “Love is different, you...youngling.”

“That’s not fair,” Zayn threw his hands up, reacting a bit too much for his comfort. He quickly shoved his hands back under his arms and sniffed. 

“He’ll open the door, but he won’t say a single word. That’s why I’ve come, you know? Because,” Louis paused to look down, “When he doesn’t talk, it’s not a good sign.”

“Boohoo, has nothing to do with me.”

“Zayn, it has everything to do with you,” Louis shook her head, beautiful fluffy hair framing her face. “I want you to meet someone.”

He didn’t respond nor look at her. Then Safaa made a curious sound, softly running her fingers through and down Louis’ hair. “You know, for a little girl who’s been through a lot of trauma, she’s awfully bright.”

Zayn looked over and felt a little betrayed, “Yeah, I guess so. She usually gets super shy and shaky, it’s so weird how you’re like, holding her right now.”

Louis asked, “Is that enough for you to trust me?”

“No, of course not,” Zayn sputtered, aghast at the gall, “You know, both of you are crazy bats, but at least Harry explained everything to me—you’re still so confusing, you know that?” Zayn rambled, walking over to pick Safaa up abruptly from her lap. 

Louis stood up at that, her long legs gracing the stage of the room. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you how I know about your family and how I can go to the tree and how I’ve lived just as long as Harry and I can tell you why I’m trying so hard to meddle in his life even though we split nearly a century ago. But once I do, you have to meet the person I want you to meet.” 

“Zee,” Safaa complained, wriggling to get back to studying Louis. He contemplated it for a moment, staring right into Louis’ scary, scary eyes, the ones that looked just like Harry’s but reversed.

“Who’s this person?” Zayn asked quietly, nearly mumbling it as to not take responsibility for saying it. 

“My last victim,” Louis shrugged, “He’s sort of in the same pickle as me and Haz.” 

“Great,” Zayn deadpanned, closing his eyes. “Why do I have to meet him?” 

“Because you need to see just how important you are,” Louis said, stepping towards him to make sure Zayn didn’t break eye contact. “In all of this. Trust me, I wouldn’t do this to you even if I could pay for it.”

“Fine,” Zayn pulled away and scuffled into the kitchen. “Come on in, I guess,” He drawled sarcastically, earning a very pleased giggle from Safaa. “Okay, bub, go and play for a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Her shoes made a thumping noise as she plopped down and ran off. 

“Tea?” Zayn asked, and she shook her head. “Coffee? Juice? Vodka?” 

Louis snorted, “I don’t even think all the Smirnoff in the world could ease what I’m about to tell you.” When Zayn motioned for her to sit, she sat, crossing her beautiful legs and once again showing off the red bottoms of her heels. 

“Hit me with your best shot,” Zayn sighed, rubbing his hands together. For some reason, he was incredibly nervous and couldn’t get the unnerving feeling out of his system. 

“Well, when Haz first came back, after infiltrating and winning the war, it was all so good. For the first couple of weeks, we just sort of hung out, had tea, eased him back into normal life, you know? We even slept in separate beds and rarely held hands,” Louis began. “Then we kissed, and this happened,” She pointed to her eyes. “And things just went really fucking terribly after that. A lot of years went by and we just decided we were done with it. We were done moving from city to city together, having to fake new identities and marriages. We went our separate ways, and that’s when I ended up here, in this town, and I found the tree.” 

“Okay,” Zayn said while nodding slowly. 

“It had the bikes it in already, it was so weird. They were new at the time, right, super shiny and varnished, but the bark that trapped them in looked old and had moss and mushrooms coming out from the side. As if the tree just swallowed the bicycles overnight.” 

“Jesus.” 

Louis flipped her hair back before continuing, “And in one of the baskets there was this letter, right, like when people sent messages in bottles across the sea sort of as a time capsule. I opened it and the words started to shift and change, I thought I developed like, dyslexia, or something—and I know that’s not how it works, but,” She paused when Zayn stood up, but he motioned that he was just going to start the kettle and for her to continue. 

“Then I ended up on a porch, Harry’s porch. I had ended up where he was, and it just kept on happening, no matter where he moved to. I began to think that maybe it had to do with this curse we have, right, and maybe it has to do with the fact that Harry’s decided to become a goddamn hermit and live a solitary life in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“Uh huh,” Zayn’s voice was light. “I see.”

“Seriously, even if I just thought about going to the tree, I’d blink and I’d be there.”

“You said I fucked up the landing,” Zayn pointed out. “When you kidnapped me.”

“Yeah, I’d think about going to the tree and I’d end up there on the floor with as much balance as a newborn deer. I’ve picked up over time that if you sort of, well, lean all your weight onto your right leg, the landing is a lot smoother.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, “That’s all there is to it? You’re not some kind of like, witch or wizard or some shit?” 

“Nope, just an ordinary middle class girl with no talents or skills trying to survive on her own after her ex-husband inadvertently cursed her with immortality. If this was Harry Potter I would’ve said so,” Louis snapped, flinching when the kettle started to scream. “Anyways, that was during the sixties. I kept on experimenting, trying to figure it out, reading every book of mythology and ancient nature magic, until one day I went to the tree and someone was already there.”

“Oh shit,” Zayn was intrigued. “Then what happened?”

“It was the owner of the bikes, can you believe that?” Louis laughed, “He said he lost them both when he was trying to find a shortcut through the forest and he asked if I could help him pry them out somehow. Like, he didn’t even question why or how this bikes ended up in the situation they did—“

“He had two bikes?” 

“One was his own, but after he lost it, he had to use his sister’s, which he lost also. So I mean, I said yes. We got axes and shit, this kid was just so dense, like all he cared about was getting his bicycles back and not once did he ask who I was or how the fuck I managed to just sneak up on him the way I did,” Louis gulped, eyelashes fluttering about the next bit, “Then he found the, the letter. You know, the one in the bottle. Then poof, he ended up at Harry’s house, and they fell in love.”

Zayn’s eyes widened at the thought of that, someone having such a perfect countenance to fall in love with a mysterious creature like Harry, “They did?” 

“Yeah,” Louis hummed, enjoying Zayn’s perk in interest. “But then they kissed and lover boy woke up with one blue eye and one brown. He had blue eyes before, like really pale and pretty.”

“So,” Zayn frowned, “He wasn’t Harry’s…?”

“Apparently so,” Louis sighed, “But he still hasn’t found the person he’s supposed to be with, though, so he’s kind of just been wandering around at the ripe old age of 24-ish for the last fifty years, and it’s my fault for not preventing that when I knew it would happen.”

Zayn didn’t know what to think about this new information, and he certainly didn’t like the way he was feeling about how sad and remorseful Louis looked, “Doesn’t that mean that his actual soulmate is out there somewhere,  _ immortal _ too?” He asked, and Louis shrugged. 

“This isn’t an exact science, kid,” Louis did end up taking a cup of tea when Zayn offered, hand slightly shaking. “So we’re all stuck. Then your name pops onto the letter.”

“I—I could just be another one of the boys that come and get trapped in time,” Zayn tried to deflect, but Louis shook her head. “No?”

“Your name popped up on the letter and I ended up at Harry’s house, per usual, but this time he had a  _ dog _ with him, like, the first one in  _ decades _ . I ask him what its name is and he tells me “Hippo” and has absolutely no rationale or explanation as to why that name specifically,” Louis scoffs in disbelief, “Then three weeks ago he’s talking and saying how you used to have a dog named Rhino and he’s all convinced it can’t just be a coincidence. He’s so excited about you, you know? He wasn’t like that with Niall, he was much more soft and hazed and stuff.”

“Niall? Sixties lover boy?” 

“Sixties lover boy,” Louis affirmed, smirking again when Zayn looked disconcerted. “I think he’s living somewhere in Milwaukee, and he’s flying over in a few weeks. He’s the person I want you to meet.” 

Zayn threw his hands up. “What else?” 

“What’d you mean?” 

“Our dogs being named after african animals can’t be the only reason why you’re so sure I’m it.” He raised his eyebrows at her, and she agreed. 

“That first night, when I ‘kidnapped’ you,” Louis used bunny ears. “I got home after replacing your car and cleaning your house and I looked right in the mirror.” She mimics the action of walking into her home, kicking her shoes off and turning to the doorway mirror she apparently had. “And I had a white hair, Zayn. Like, right here, right in your face, ever present, shiny and shit. I left it alone and the next morning it was gone. Almost like something glitched or blipped.” 

“Oh.” 

“Zee?” Waliyha’s voice rang throughout the house, “‘M back.”

“Wali,” He jumped up and ran to the door, grabbing his sister and hugging her like a giant stress ball. “How was your day today, bub?” 

“Who’s her?” Wali interrupted, automatically on guard and distrustful of the intimidatingly fair lady. 

“ _ She’s _ Louis,” Zayn introduced, it was crazy to think that just an hour ago he was ready to kick her onto the gutter and break the heels of her Loubotins. “She’s very nic—interesting, she’s quite unique, just like you. You can say hi, Wali.” 

“Hi,” Louis said to the three year old, who was still a bit frightened judging by how her fists were clenched in Zayn’s hair. “Alrighty, then. I do have to get going, so have a good day, Zayn.” She picked up her purse, smiling one more time at Waliyha before shrugging her coat on and fluffing her hair a little bit. 

“You know where to find me once Neil comes.”

“Niall, it’s Niall,”

“Right, Niall.” 

“Good job.” 

* * *

“Hazza?” Louis called out, slipping her shoes back on after masterfully landing on her feet. The feeling of being transported was incredible, as though someone just ripped the rug right from under you and replaced it with a different one. “It’s Lou!” She knocked on the blue and gold door that she helped him paint a while ago. “Jesus, you should really just give me a key,” She muttered, taking out a pin from her hair and bending it into all different shapes. “Hazza!” She tried one more time before jamming the pin into the keyhole and maneuvering it around until every single latch was met and turned. 

“I opened the door!” She informed, stepping into the house. “It’s fucking filthy in here!” She knew he wasn’t going to reply, since he was in a mood, but she nevertheless didn’t want to jumpscare him into a visit and have him accidentally knock her out. “God, you man-child.” 

Hippo ran around the second floor corridor until she got to the baby gate at the top of the stairs, pawing at the fence until Louis noticed her. “Hi, baby girl.” Once she shed her coat, hung her purse, and put on a pair of Harry’s house slippers, she padded up the steps to release the dog into her arms. 

Hippo excitedly licked at her face, rubbing her side all over Louis’ clothes and pawing at her legs. “You’re so precious, yes you are, the bestest girl in the whole wide world—“ 

“Louis! Get the fuck out!” Harry’s shriek nearly made her lose her balance and tumble down the stairs, its unexpected nature was more shocking than his yelling.

“C’mon, let’s get your dad out of bed,” Louis sighed, walking all the way up and turning left into Harry’s bedroom. “You lazy, unkempt, dramatic piece of shit.” 

No answer. Harry has apparently used up his five words of the day. “Just what the hell is going on with you? I’m not your nanny, you know, I don’t have to be working my ass off scrubbing your floors while your heartbroken ass just lays here.” 

She sat on the side of her bed and peeled off his duvet up till his neck, “Haz, you’re fucking ripe.”

Harry just shifted and curled in on himself. 

“Can you take a shower, please? Borrow a shower? Absolutely fucking steal a shower?” Louis asked, rummaging her hand through his curls and massaging lightly. “Come on.” 

Harry grumbled, rolling until he reached the other side of the bed and stood up, shuffling to the bathroom wordlessly with a hand in his hair. Louis took this time to strip his bed, pick up his laundry, feed Hippo, do about three loads in his incredible washing machine, make breakfast, and vacuum the entire house, all before Harry even turned off the water. 

Maybe she was talentless when she was younger, but now, this just can’t  _ not _ be considered a talent. “Harry, I’m taking your car.”

“Mmpfgh?” Harry moaned with a mouth full of toothpaste, protesting as he heard Louis dramatically jangle the keys and leave the house. Hippo nosed at his leg, confused as to why her owner was so clean, sitting patiently as he washed out his mouth, blow dried his hair, and shaved. By the time he did that, Louis was back already with groceries, kicking off her heels once more as she bustled to the kitchen. 

“I got fruit, you should eat some. You get really fucking cranky when you don’t have your sucrose,” Louis jabbed, sliding melon off the knife onto a plate with one hand and flipping a pancake with the other. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me?” Harry frowned, insulted. 

“No, not like that, half-wit. What’s wrong with you, like, why are you being all depressed and a lazy sack of shit?” Louis asked again, setting down a mug of steaming hot, black as a cloudy night coffee in front of him. “Something had to have happened. You were in such a good mood a few weeks ago.” 

“Nothin’.”

“Lies.”

Harry glared at her, “I fucked things up with Zayn.” 

“I just saw him, he didn’t mention anything?” Louis began to wash the weeks’ worth of dishes as he continued. 

“I dunno, but I definitely fucked up. He was so mad and he hasn’t called me and like, I dunno,” Harry smiled when Hippo set her head onto his lap. “Thanks, baby girl.”

“Then apologize, dumbass. That’s what people usually do when they fuck things up with someone they like, not mope around about it for a week,” Louis rolled her eyes. “I’ve treated my worst one night stands better.” 

“Wow, I’ve clearly reached a new low,” Harry stabbed at his fruit rather aggressively. “I think I should just leave him alone. Not get him involved in this anymore.” 

Louis winced, “Too late. We’re gonna meet up with Niall in a few weeks.” 

Harry’s neck cracked when he looked up abruptly, “Niall? Why?” 

“Because he’s coming into town and Zayn’s my new best friend,” Louis lied, expertly making her gaze more dominant than his. “Don’t question me when you’re here trying to marinate in your own patheticism and gunk.” 

“Oh,” Harry ducked his head and thumbed the lip of the mug. “Thanks, Lou. I’m gonna—I’m gonna try and like, I guess, I mean,” He had to exhale in order to start again, “I’m gonna try and fix things.” 

“Whatever, dumby,” Louis sighed. “Eat your goddamn pancakes.”

* * *

**_Interlude_ **

“It’s just heterochromia iridum.” 

“No,” Louis shook her head, breathing heavily as the doctor gave her a look. 

“There’s no other explanation for it, we checked your genetics.” 

“I wasn’t born like this,” Louis pointed at her green eye, “You don’t understand how long I’ve waited to find you—a supposedly decent doctor who studied all sorts of eye diseases—“

“Lou,” Harry warned softly, placing a hand on her arm. “It’s not his fault.”

“You’re right,” She sniffed, picking up her bag and jumping up from the chair. “It’s yours.”

“The irises might have just always been different colors and then manifested over time with changes in environment and light, making one appear more green and the other staying blue.” The doctor said to Harry, who just gave him an apathetic look and said goodbye. “I’m very sorry.” 

Louis stormed out. “Lou,” 

“No, can’t you fuck off?” Louis screamed, still in the hospital lobby where everyone stopped to stare at the hysterical woman crying. “You told me there was a doctor that might know.” 

“Yeah, Lou,” Harry sighed, coming forwards just as she stepped back. “I’m sorry I dragged you out for this.” 

“It’s fucking 1981 and no one’s solved fuckshit,” Louis said irrationally, shoving the doors open and stomping out. “We’ve been going to doctors for the last  _ ninety _ years, Haz. Just admit it already that this is a curse, okay? We just—you need to stay away from me,  _ and _ Niall, okay? God,” She sobbed, wiping her tears away gracefully before walking away, leaving Harry standing there. 

* * *

  1. **_Another month later (Zayn’s very good at grudges.)_**



“Zee,” 

“Mmmrrrgh?” Zayn shifted to his other side, eyes still closed. 

“Zee,” 

“Mm?” Zayn managed to pry one eye open, and immediately faced with a tiny human standing next to his bed grabbing the sheets desperately. “Saf?”

Safaa whimpered, stomping her feet on the floor. Her face went sad and she began to cry when Zayn didn’t immediately jump to pick her up, and it was clear she had been trying to jump into the bed for a while. 

“What’s wrong, bub?” Zayn groaned, stretching for a second before releasing a long exhale and forcing himself up. “It’s 3 in the morning, Saf. You need to go back to bed.” 

“Zee,” Safaa protested, repeating his name over and over in between her wails. “Zee,”

“Okay, okay,” Zayn bent down to reach for her with a worried expression. “What’s wrong, bub?” 

Safaa just curled up as soon as she got under the covers, clinging to his neck tightly. Zayn shook his head and sat up, resting her in his lap and wrapping the blanket around them both. He then reached over to turn the lamp on and fix his glasses on his face. 

Safaa was in tears, hiccupping and barely able to breathe. “Did you have a bad dream?” Zayn put his hand on her forehead and she shrugged it off. He leaned close and pouted, “I get sad when you get sad.”

Safaa only cried harder, covering her face with her hands and began to shake. “Oh, Saf,” Zayn pulled her close and kissed her head. “Hey, it’s okay, bub. Where’s your bunny?” 

“Mmgh,” Safaa replied with her face smushed against his chest. 

“I’m guessing back in the room?” Zayn hauled his legs over the edge and tucked hers around his waist. “Let’s go find her.”

Safaa stuffed her face in his neck and made no comment. By the time they got to the next room, Waliyha had already heard the commotion and woken up, “Zee?” 

“Hi, bud,” Zayn let Safaa down onto the bed next to her, rubbing her ears until she calmed down. “Where’s Saf’s bunny?” 

“The heavy one?” Wali asked sleepily, a hand reaching towards her sister. She pointed to the corner of the bed, closing her eyes again once Zayn reached for it. 

“Bubba,” Zayn whispered gently, placing the weighted bunny on her chest. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

“Zee,” Safaa struggled a little, but ultimately gave up when Zayn added a little bit of pressure along with the stuffed bunny. “Mmn.”

“I know,” Zayn calmly kissed her head, running his fingers through her hair. “It’s okay, I’m right here. Not going anywhere, ever.” 

Safaa gripped onto his fingers and sniffled anxiously. Waliyha scooched closer. “Zee?” 

“Alright, alright,” Zayn sighed, pushing Safaa in further so that he could squeeze into bed. “Just for a little bit, okay?” He smiled when Safaa curled up to him and gazed up at him with her big brown eyes, Waliyha going right back to sleep. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Safaa mumbled, trying very hard to steady her breathing. 

“I love you more than anything else in the entire world,” Zayn challenged, fixing the bunny on her chest. “D’you want me to heat this up?”

“Nuh uh,” Safaa shook her head and looked insulted by the idea. “Stay.” 

“Okay,” Zayn kissed her head. “I’m gonna wait until you fall asleep, then I’ll heat it up.” 

Safaa narrowed her eyes and he had to stop himself from laughing. “I was just joking, I’m not going anywhere, you little killjoy.” 

“Does Harry not like me anymore?” 

“Hm?” Zayn rubbed her back. “What are you on?” 

“You got mad at him,” Safaa said softly, holding onto his forearm. “He hasn’t been back.”

“Bub, that’s…it’s not your fault. You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it, mkay?” Zayn chuckled. 

Safaa looked unconvinced, and god, this was the tenth time in the last two months that that’s made Zayn want to cry. 

* * *

“Sorry, Louis, I don’t think I can meet Niall today.” 

“Why?” Louis slammed the brakes on her car just as she was about to leave her driveway. “What happened?”

Zayn winced, “Uh, my sisters are sick.”

“Are you just shitting me?” Louis asked warningly, because this better  _ not _ be a lie so help her God. 

“I’m not, I swear, and usually I’d just dose ‘em with some tylenol and make them sleep but it’s kind of bad this time,” Zayn scratched the back of his head as he watched Wali and Safaa lethargically roll around on the floor. “Bubs, get on the blanket, being on the floor isn’t good for your backs.”

“What kind of sickness?” Louis got out of her car again just as Niall stepped out, shaking her head at him even though he just spent an hour getting ready. “Is it just the flu or is it consumption?” 

“The fu—heck is consumption?” 

Louis hit her face, “Sorry, like, tuberculosis—is that what it’s called?” She whispered at Niall, who shrugged. “Are they hacking violently?” 

“No, but they are coughing. They had a 103 fever when I check this morning” Zayn sighed when Safaa stood up and began to pull at his leg. “They keep crying.” 

“Well, they’re hot and it’s frustrating, stupid,” Louis deadpanned, ushering Niall back into the house. “The thing is, Niall’s already here, so like…”

“Oh, shi—sheesh.” Zayn refrained, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tell him I’m really sorry.”

Louis suddenly got a wicked idea, looking at Niall and exchanging a look. “I think we’ll be fine, but he’s uh,  _ very _ concerned about your little sisters. It just so happens that he’s the best nurse that I know.” 

Niall scrunched up his face and looked at Louis confused. 

“Oh, does he want to come over?” 

“Oh baby,” Louis smiled devilishly. “ _ We _ would love to come over and help.” 

Zayn fumbled for something, “The house is kind of a mess, though. Oh god, I haven’t gone to work in like two days already, I can’t even—“

“Do you trust us enough with your dependents?” Louis interrupted. “We can have the old lady next door supervise if it’s really concerning, but hey, I used to be a board-certified nanny.” 

“That’s a thing?” 

Niall shook his head and slapped his face into his palms. 

“Yeah, the two of us can take care of your sisters. You have that whole security cam thing, right?”

“I dunno if I…I’m gonna call Mrs. Wilson and I’ll call you back.”

“Alright.” 

“Are you shitting me? I’m not a nurse,” Niall hissed when Louis hung up, to which she stuck her tongue out at him. “Oh, is that not the point?” 

“I’m observant enough to know that Zayn knows about my adeptness for cleaning, he knows that Harry used to actually work with kids who had trauma and all that whatever,” 

“All that whatever?” Niall questioned, getting a bag thrown at him. “What’s this for?” 

“Pack things little kids would be interested in when they’re sick. Anyways, Zayn knows it’s been three months at this point and he can trust us to very low level, Harry more than me.” 

“So…?” 

Louis rolled her eyes, “We’re bringing Harry with us, genius.” 

“I thought you said they aren’t talking right now.” 

“I said what I said,” Louis smiled, fixing her lipstick in the entryway mirror. “Count to ten.”

“Huh?” Niall didn’t even make it to five before the phone rang again, just as Louis finished rubbing the perfume from her wrists to behind her ears. 

“Damn. I overshot,” Louis sighed, answering the call and putting Zayn on speakerphone. “Yes, baby?”

“Uh, Mrs. Dubs—Wilson, I mean, isn’t in town.”

“Really?” Louis sounded awfully surprised. “My goodness, what terrible news. Come over right now?” 

“Yes, please,” Zayn sounded so goddamn cute about it that even Niall awed. “Sorry to bother you with this, Louis.”

“It is absolutely no problem, Zayn.” Louis reassured him, tossing Niall the keys. She hung up and turned to him. “Call Harry.” 

“Oh?” Niall smiled at her, “You’re a scheming little shit, you know that?” 

“Please. I’ve been running this shitstorm a whole lot longer than you,” Louis practically skipped out of the house and into the passenger seat, laughing when Niall nearly tripped getting off the porch. 

By the time they got to Zayn’s house, her methodical sense of timing had placed Harry there already, parked on the other side of the street looking sweaty and anxious as all hell. “Hey, stupid. Wow, you even used a diffuser for your hair today,” She smoothed her hands over the open top of the convertible. “Zayn know you have this car? Or did you only show him that muddy old rat?” 

Harry frowned when he saw Niall step out and wave at him. “What game are you playing, Lou?” 

“Which one?” Louis fixed her driving hat and flounced off to the door, yanking Harry by the ear until he couldn’t run. “Zayn!” She knocked on the door incessantly until he answered, and god, if she could just bottle the look on his face when he did, “Hi, lovie. Here’s the best nurse I know.” She shoved Harry inside and Niall snorted, leaving a shell-shocked Zayn standing in the walkway. 

Louis hummed as she walked in, holding Zayn’s chin with her hand. “You look terrible.”

“You know, you’ve dramatically improved your look over the last few months,” Zayn’s voice trailed off when Harry regained his balance and rejoined them. 

“I go through a cycle; it all gets worse when I’m stressed. This is the real me,” Louis inspected the house, “How can a house this gorgeous look this constipated?” 

“Hi, I’m Niall,” Niall finally found an opportunity to introduce himself, shaking Zayn’s hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard lots of things.”

“You didn’t say ‘good things’.” Zayn mumbled as he closed the door. “Wali, Saf, say hi.” 

The girls scrambled up to hide behind the couch cushions, eyes wide at the sight of a blue-eyed (and green) Audrey Hepburn, a giant with curly hair, and a...completely normal looking stranger. Zayn understood how they felt. “Bubs, don’t be like that.”

“Harry?” Safaa asked with a small voice, peeking her head out before Wali yanked her head back down. Harry visibly perked up at the mention of his name, then cowered back down when Zayn glared in his direction. 

“Could anyone believe he was once a James Dean stud?” Niall teased, and Zayn giggled. 

Louis hummed, “Why aren’t you ready for work, baby?”

“Oh, I uh, haven’t even showered yet,” Zayn said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think my tire pressure’s off too, ‘m gonna have to wait for the next bus anyways.” 

“We’re dropping you off,” Louis said assertively, “Go shower and I’ll get breakfast ready,” She took her scarf off and hung it on Zayn’s coat rack. “Harry, what are you doing? Go nurse them.” 

“Is that okay?” Harry asked tentatively, holding his hands. Zayn nodded after a minute of contemplation, still looking uneasy at the thought of leaving his baby sisters with three non-vampires. Harry smiled so wide, though, and he hated how it made him blush. 

“Hi, little one,” Harry reached and dug Safaa out, hugging her to his chest and reaching for Waliyha too. “You’re warm.” 

“Harry,” Safaa wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. “Sicky.” 

“Go,” Louis said abruptly to Zayn, who was in a daze. Once he bounded up the stairs, “Ni, when you drop him off, have a nice and long talk?” 

“Of course, honey,” Niall kissed Louis’ cheek and that’s when Waliyha finally popped her head out. 

“You married that scary lady?” She asked in a stage-whisper to Niall, who threw his head back and cackled. 

“No, sweetie. I’m gay; we’ve just known each other a long time,” Niall explained bluntly, helping her wiggle out of the couch. “You’re feeling warm too.” 

“Glad we established that Zayn didn’t lie and that they’re actually sick,” Louis rolled her eyes and immediately began to pick up the trash and laundry off the floor. “We have to boil these.” 

“Lou, there is such a thing as laundry disinfectant.” 

She scrunched her nose up, “What’s wrong with boiling?” 

“A bit archaic, honey,” Niall elaborated, “Harry is just reminding you that life has gotten considerably easier. There is also a hot water setting on most of the modern laundry machines, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“Well, I have to separate the whites regardless.” Louis responded, getting to work with her superhuman efficiency. Harry sat down with Safaa on his lap and began to wipe her nose with a tissue. 

“Meh,” Safaa protested when her nose got raw, and Harry apologized profusely. She smashed her face into his shirt. 

“When did you get so soft?” Niall asked out loud, finding a couple cotton handkerchiefs from the hallway closet and tossing one to Harry, Waliyha still attached to his hip. “You’re basically kowtowing to a two-year old.” 

“A very precocious and self-aware two-year old,” Harry corrected, wiping her nose again with the softer fabric. “Did Zee give you medicine, little one?” 

“That red, purple, or orange yucky stuff?” Niall was now on the hunt for new pajama clothes and Louis was heard shuffling through the refrigerator. 

Safaa shrugged, cuddling Harry’s face until he stopped messing with wiping her nose. “Man, she likes you so much.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, closing one eyelid when she began to paw at his funky eye. “I think we need some wipes for their hands.” 

“I’m so late!” Zayn screamed upstairs, making everyone giggle as Waliyha tried to get away from Niall wiping her face of snot. “Aaaaargh!”

“What happened, baby?” Louis shouted and it was all the commotion, microwaving and chopping and frying noises being heard all at once. 

“I have no ties!” Zayn shrieked, and Niall laughed, taking his own off and leaving it on the couch arm rest. 

“You can borrow mine!” Niall yelled back, bouncing Waliyha when she began to grumble and whine. “Red, purple, or orange yucky stuff?” 

“Purple.” Waliyha muttered reluctantly. 

“Grape tylenol? Child abuse.” Niall shook his head, leaving Waliyha on Harry’s lap as he curiously went towards the kitchen. “I see what you mean,”

“Hm?” Louis was spooning hot oil onto a pan of eggs to make ‘em crispy, “About what?” 

“Well, I see why you’re so determined,” Niall smiled fondly, “Harry’s so different. It doesn’t take a genius to see it. He fits in so well here, I knew the second I saw how tall the doorway is.” 

Louis snorted and motioned for the plates. “It’s cute, right? I don’t think I’ve ever been so ready to age.” 

“I’m ready to die too, in a non-suicidal kind of way. I wanna live my life.” Niall said, finding the cutlery and setting the table. 

“Yeah,” Louis kissed his cheek as she handed him a plate, smiling softly to herself. 

“Let’s wash our hands and faces, hm?” Harry suggested as he lifted each baby onto the bathroom counter. “Who’s going first?” 

“Me,” Waliyha crawled over and let Harry show her how to get under her nails and such, wiping her face and eyes with utmost tenderness. “Harry, I feel bad.”

“I know, little one,” Harry cooed, feeling her forehead. “You’re still burning up.”

Safaa paddled her feet in wait, giggling excitedly when Harry splashed a bit of water onto her face. “This funny?”

“Yeah,” She squealed when he attacked her with the washcloth, wiping her face and moving her cheeks around. “Tired,” Her mood fell again when he patted her dry. 

“Yeah,” Harry empathized, picking them both back up and walking out into the living room. “Give me a second—“ He couldn’t finish his sentence before a pile of clothes were being thrown at him. “Hm?” 

Zayn looked away, suddenly feeling very shy, “Don’t want to get your nice clothes dirty. You can borrow these, they’re the biggest I have.” 

“Oh,” Harry blushed, unable to meet his eye. Safaa whimpered and reached for Zayn, who picked her up and smothered her like a teddy bear. “I’m...I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Zayn mumbled, so quiet that Harry nearly missed it. Safaa made another confused noise, this time as to why her big brother was clinging onto  _ her _ so tightly. “Be good while I’m at work, okay? Be good for Harry?” 

“Okay,” Safaa wheezed when Zayn kissed her eyelid. “I’m always good.” She said, which made him laugh and kiss her more. 

“Yeah,” Zayn nuzzled their noses together before handing her back to Harry, and the moment became awkward again. 

“Zayn, I packed your breakfast since you don’t have any time. Give Niall the address,” Louis ushered them both out, smiling and nodding until they were both shoved onto the porch. She turned around and looked at Harry. “M job is done. I’m taking your car, call me when you need a ride.” 

“What?” 

“I said what I said.” 

“Scary lady’s scary,” Waliyha whispered, making Louis stop and turn back around. “Oh no.” 

“Little girl,” Louis leaned in close and brushed Waliyha’s hair back. “One day you’ll learn how scary isn’t conducive to beautiful and successful and powerful, which are all things you will most definitely be. To place in simpler terms: scary is good. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you stop shaming others for it and begin to employ it yourself.” 

“I said they were precocious, not toddler-geniuses, Lou.” Harry sighed when Louis walked out and closed the door before he could even finish. 

“Scary.” Waliyha repeated and Harry nodded sympathetically. 

“I know,” Harry looked at the clock and nearly had whiplash at the fact that all of that had happened under thirty minutes. “Come on, up.” He patted the couch, which seemed to be a rendezvous point. 

“I can’t,” Safaa whined, jumping fruitlessly while clutching the fabric of the cushions. “Help.” She sniffled and looked up at him accusingly. 

“Okay, don’t be so sad about it,” Harry sighed softly, “You’re breaking my heart, little one.” He hoisted her up and placed them together, wrapping them up with blankets before standing up and walking away. 

“My head hurts,” Waliyha complained, wriggling around restlessly. “Harry, I’m hurt.” 

“Considering that,” Harry said loudly from the kitchen. “This tylenol is unopened, Zayn hasn’t given you medicine yet.” 

“Mmn,” Safaa found it distasteful how Harry was trying to poison her. “No.” She yanked her head away before Harry could even sputter a gasp. 

“Little one,” Harry tried to reason. 

“I’m not little!” Safaa screamed, breaking out into a full bawl. Waliyha covered her ears and began to scream at her in retaliation. 

“Something about you two reminds me so much of Zayn,” Harry sighed, booping Safaa’s nose until she was just confused enough that he could measure some out, tilt her head, and pour it down her throat. He lightly closed her jaw and made her gulp down the admittedly horrendous medicine, then sighed in exasperation when Waliyha ran. “I’m sorry, little one, you tied my hands,” He picked up the one that was still squirming and crying in his hold, hugging her close to his chest. “Gosh, it’s like I stabbed you or something.” 

“Bad!” Safaa hit his chest, clearly exhausted when she began to dry-heave. “Bad.”

“I know, I’m a nazi,” Harry deadpanned, knowing she couldn’t possibly comprehend how fucked up the sarcasm was. “God, I’m becoming Zayn.” 

He patted her back as they made way to the kitchen, sat her down on the counter and had her finish a whole glass of water. “Where do you think Waliyha is?”

Safaa stubbornly shook her head and gave him a look that said ‘I’m no snitch, bitch.’ 

And Mrs. Wilson said they were angels. 

* * *

“Thank you so much,” Zayn said honestly as he got out of the car, shaking Niall’s hand. “You honestly didn’t have to pick me up and drop me off again.” 

“I hope you’ll take into consideration what I said.” 

“Trust me, I already am. Have a safe flight back,” Zayn smiled, opening the car door again so that he could leap in and give Niall a hug. 

“Louis said you were standoffish,” Niall wheezed, squeezing him back. “Maybe only to her, huh?” 

Zayn giggled and sighed, “I think I just liked talking to you, or someone in general.” 

Niall rubbed his back, “You’re breaking my heart. Go in there and get your man, for all our sakes.” He flashed Zayn a pearly white smile, making his blue and brown eyes glitter underneath the moonlight, actually fucking  _ glitter. _ Something about it was just too magical for words. Niall stayed and waited until Zayn got into the house, waving and promptly driving away the second Zayn’s foot stepped back the threshold. 

“Hi.” 

Zayn jumped and turned back around to see an immensely disheveled Harry and a little girl hanging off of his shoulder. “Oh, what?”

Harry blinked at him. “I, uh, I…” He tilted forwards slightly, making Zayn put his hands up towards his chest to steady him. “God, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Zayn shook his head, hands tingling where they touched him, reeling them back as soon as Harry regained his balance. “Thank you for watching them. I hope they weren’t too much.”

Harry blinked again before saying, “They are angels.”

“Zee?” A voice from the couch asked softly, Safaa sitting up with her hair sticking in multiple directions and a yawn to finish the illustration off. “Zee!”

“Hi, bub,” Zayn took Waliyha from Harry, who looked so grateful to be rid of the weight on his shoulder and together walked over to the couch. “Feeling better?” 

“Yeah,” Safaa leaned into Zayn and sniffed. 

“I gave them medicine every five hours and heated some chicken soup,” Harry fell face first onto the L-seat, groaning softly in exhaustion. “How do you do it?”

“I’ve dealt with these two since the day they were born,” Zayn shrugged, smiling when Safaa did. “Isn’t that right, bubba?” 

“Yeah,” Safaa giggled, “Harry’s broken.”

“Hey, I’m  _ not _ broken,” Harry pointed at her sternly, then yawned. “How...how was work?” 

“Oh,” Zayn blushed and realized that the moment had gotten way too domestic for being ‘mad at him.’ “It was fine, productivity levels were off the charts, yada yada. I’m sorry I didn’t call once to check up or anything.” 

“It’s alright,” Harry shook his head quickly, feeling very timid in Zayn’s presence. He was kind of ducking his head while speaking to Zayn, shoulders hunched over like he was trying to make himself smaller. 

“Hey, none of that,” Zayn pressed his palms on Harry’s shoulders until he straightened up, cheeks flaming when they made unmistakable eye contact. “Stop being all...sad, you did me a really big favor, alright?” 

“I’m sorry,” If Harry had ears, they’d be droopy right now. “About last time, when I was really rude and insensitive. I didn’t know how to respond to all the things I was feeling and it ended up hurting you.” 

“Wali, Saf, go to your room,” Zayn instructed, staying very still until they clamored away. He looked at Harry and bit his lip, “It’s okay. I overreacted.” 

“No, you didn’t—“

“But I did,” Zayn chuckled. “I assumed that you were even trying to fake feelings for me, when it could’ve just been you trying to figure out the answer to an equation, you know? You didn’t deserve the way I kicked you out.” 

“I didn’t fake anything.” 

“Hm?” Zayn cocked his head to the side and Harry visibly shivered. “What?” 

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” Harry mumbled, feeling oh so disgustingly shy. “And that’s that. I like you, Zayn.” 

“Ah, fuck.” 

“Hm?” Harry’s head snapped up in panic. “Wha—what?” 

Zayn scratched the back of his head and Harry was so close that he could feel the wind from his arm as he moved to do so. “I like you too. I haven’t been…I…”

“Yeah?” Harry leaned closer, my god, it was like this man had a confidence lever that he just yanks whenever it’s convenient to do so. 

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind,” Zayn scoffed, “And every time I think about you when you’re not around, it feels like I’m missing something. I hate feeling that way.”

They heard a creak upstairs, and when Harry craned his neck out towards the stairs there was a flash of long curly hair whipping past in an attempt to make Harry think no one was listening. “I think we have an audience.” 

Zayn slapped his forehead and grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him up to the best of his ability and running further into the house. “There’s a guest room.” 

“Okay,” Harry gasped, slightly panting like a dog at the feel of Zayn’s hand gripping his wrist. Compared to his own, Zayn’s wrist was thin and delicate, fingers long and beautiful wrapped around his gigantic forearm. He was just so little, it was truly astonishing. 

“Before you say it, no, I don’t have an eating disorder, and I’m not little. You’re just freakishly big,” Zayn retorted to Harry’s  _ thoughts, _ which was a mind fuck in itself, but combined with how Zayn tossed him onto the neatly made bed and crawled on next to him, he was a total goner. “Did you know today marks the fourth month I’ve known you?” 

“Yes,” Harry replied honestly. “I do. It’s not an impressive feat once you realize I like you more, Zayn.”

Zayn tensed up and frowned at him, “Why do you like me? It’s obvious I’m not your—your  _ soulmate. _ God, that sounds dumber out loud.”

Harry reached a hand up to caress the side of Zayn’s face, his palm nearly encompassing the perimeter of half his head. Zayn looked resistant to it at first, but eventually leaned into it, blinking at him slowly with those big disney character eyes. “You really do look like Bambi.” 

“Harry, I want you to kismsndnsme.” 

“Sorry?” 

Zayn’s nostrils flared, “Kiss me again. And don’t say anything afterwards this time.”

Harry choked, pulling Zayn in authoritatively onto his lap. “I don’t care if you’re not my soulmate or whatever. I like you so much, Zayn, I feel like a stupid Jane Austen character.” Harry gently pulled Zayn’s head down until their noses were touching. 

“You  _ are _ a stupid Jane Austen character.” Zayn whispered before laying his lips on top of Harry’s, moving them slowly and welding their bodies into each other desperately, like two snakes dancing to tangle themselves in a knot. It was so much better than the first time, for sure, considering that they were now in a marginally more intimate position and the context behind this kiss was a way better set up to it. 

Harry’s hands nearly touched when they wrapped around Zayn’s waist, and that alone made him groan low in his throat and pull him even closer. The ease of it kind of scared him, but every time he moved Zayn or held him firmly with his hands, he’d squeak all adorably and Harry just couldn’t fucking get enough of that. (Could anyone?) 

“C’mere,” Harry moaned softly, dragging his index finger down the line of Zayn’s spine as they slowly sunk further into the mattress. “Ah,” 

“This feel good?” Zayn asked in a light voice, grinding down on top of him until Harry had to physically grab his hips to stop. “You feel big, jesus christ.” 

“Shit, don’t say stuff like that,” Harry blushed, snaking his other hand down to grab at Zayn’s ass. “You’ve got such an amazing ass for such a skinny person.” 

Zayn groaned and hit his chest lightly. “ _ You _ don’t say stuff like that.” He whimpered all the same when Harry’s knowing hands found the middle of his backside, sliding down over his clothed entrance whilst sucking at his neck. “Take this off. Now.”

“You sure?” Harry pulled back with a worried expression. “You haven’t seen me topless before.” 

“This isn’t the 19th century. Strip.” Zayn demanded, reaching the bottom hem of the sweatshirt he let Harry borrow and yanking it upwards. 

“Ah,” Harry laughed, helping Zayn in his desperation until his entire torso was revealed, smooth, toned, and dare he say it, godly. “Oh no, I got a stain on this. I’m so sorry, that’s so careless of me.” 

Zayn rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry about it. This is my ex’s.” 

The mention of Zayn’s ex made Harry wilt a little bit somewhere. 

“He was a really big guy too,” Zayn kissed Harry’s nose when he looked dejected. “We broke up two years ago, stop making wrinkles.” 

“Mm,” Harry pouted childishly and hugged Zayn closer. “So you’ve got a type then.” 

“Duh,” Zayn dragged out, rubbing one hand from one of Harry’s deltoids across his back to the other. “I like it when I’m tossed around, kinda sorta.” 

“Kinda sorta?” Harry grunted as he flipped them over, pushing Zayn further up the bed with his leg in between his thighs. “They went rough on you?”

“‘They?’ You’re implying that I’m a slut?” 

“No, never,” 

“I’m just kidding, you dork. Take off your pants.” 

Harry made an ambiguous sound of either genuine distress or sexual frustration, torn between pulling Zayn off of him or pulling his pants off. They settled for kissing each other’s necks, asking in between kisses if they were okay, if this was okay. There was something so arousing about being pinned underneath someone twice your size, letting them touch you in places where you haven’t been touched in years. 

Even better that they both thought they were the most beautiful boys in the world, and for a second, as Harry began to unzip Zayn’s pants and lightly finger the bottom hem of his untucked work shirt, no one could convince them that it wasn’t true. 

“I want it,” Zayn whispered hotly as he reached down to grab Harry, letting his jaw drop when Harry let out the sexiest groan a man could ever emit. “Jesus, fuck.” 

“Shit, you’re so,” Harry panted, pulling Zayn’s legs apart after shedding his pants and wrapping them around his own torso. “You’re gorgeous.” 

“Mmn,” Zayn let out a sound halfway in between a squeak and a yelp, just as Harry began to grind down onto him. “Stop saying stuff like that.” 

“It’s true, it’s so true, shit, it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said,” Harry rambled, losing his breath when Zayn unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off of him. “Oh my god.”

“Harry?” Zayn asked, hands around his neck and grinding his cock lightly against his thigh. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh my god, yeah,” Harry’s eyes rolled back into his head, “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” 

Zayn brushed the hair out of his face, “You’re kind of burning up,” He placed a hand on his forehead and no,  _ no, _ this was not the time for him to be feeling feverish. “You’re really burning up.”

“No no, I’m fine,” Harry insisted, but Zayn shook his head and rolled until he was off of him. “Oh my god. I’m upset.”

“You probably caught whatever the girls got.” 

Mentioning the girls made Harry wilt even more. 

“Aren’t you going to get sick?” Harry asked, then sneezed. “Oh  _ my _ god, I’m so upset.” He fell back onto the bed and covered his face with his right arm. 

“No, I had it a few days ago, I’m temporarily immune,” Zayn sighed, crawling on top of Harry again and resting their foreheads together. “Yup. You have a fever.”

“Fuck you,” Harry said to the ceiling, which made Zayn giggle uncontrollably. “I can’t believe God has cockblocked me.” 

Zayn kissed his cheek, “I would have blown you till you fell asleep, but now that you’ve brought God into this it doesn’t feel so right anymore,” He burst out laughing at Harry’s unamused side eye. “Oh come on, baby, don’t look at me like that.” 

“I like that.” 

“Like what?” Zayn kept his cool hand on Harry’s forehead. 

“No one’s ever called me ‘baby’ before,” Harry smiled, one hand resting on Zayn’s hip almost protectively. “I like it.” 

“No one? Really?” Zayn hummed, covering Harry with the throw blanket. “You need to sleep.” 

“I need to go home and feed Hippo,” Harry protested, trying to get up. It was fruitless the second Zayn rolled on top of him and laid down on his chest, hips circling down onto his own. 

“I’ll call Louis,” Zayn whispered, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I feel like I had something to show you, but now it’s completely slipped my mind.” 

“Yeah?” Harry’s eyes were fluttering shut, hugging Zayn close. “What would you have done if I wasn’t so, so sick?” 

“Hm,” Zayn patted his chest. “I’ll leave that to the imagination. I’m going to make you some tea.” 

“No.” Harry held onto his arm and looked at him longingly until he moved back into teddy bear position. “Stay.”

“Okay,” Zayn kissed his chest. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m not gonna run out of my own house and change my identity to someone named Zebra Maine.” 

Harry shrugged, “I know, but, I think I’ll start freaking out if you left right now. I  _ just _ managed to catch you, y’know.” 

There was a pause. “I would’ve sucked you dry and whined like a bitch until you sat me down on your cock.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next bet: what’ll happen next? i’m wagering my pride on this one.   
> -j <3000


	5. sweet little ah, ah, ahs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon realizing that my story needs more chapters than just nine or ten, I have reconfigured it in order to keep the chapters under 10k words, because I think 10k words is toooooo much for a chapter. 
> 
> Also, I got a really nasty comment the other day about someone saying I was delusional for shipping Zarry and putting the “only acceptable pairing” Ziam tag in this fic? When I originally did have some Ziam action planned? Oh well. Since I’ve updated the storyline I’ve decided to omit the small amount of Ziam I had planned. 
> 
> I’m trying to get better at writing SMUT, yes, finally, some SMUT, I’m really, really bad at it. I hope you understand that I’m still practicing. 
> 
> Also, I keep on changing the title for this, oopsie!! 
> 
> Also also, I’ve decided to not let people translate this work, just because I have had problems with people stealing my writing without permission in the past. I’ve become very fond of my own words, you know? 
> 
> Thank you very much.

**_April 7th, 1865._ **

“To Freddie. May he rest in peace,” Flasks were raised in the air, clinking against one another in perfect tandem. “We won it for you, buddy.”

“Frederick Darcy Wilder, what a piece of horse shit,” Adam laughed, elbowing Gabriel. “And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“What’s the plan, boss?” Gabriel asked James, who was busy taking an extra swig of his flask before responding, “We escape, you son of a whore.” 

“Woah there,” Harry sputtered in sarcastic shock, “Did our commander, our leader, our most holy reverend just curse when God was watching?” 

James pushed at his forehead, “Shut it. You all know the plan. If I had to repeat it again I’m pretty sure Freddie would slap me from where he lay.” 

“Ghosts don’t exist, chief. Especially not when you give them a proper Christian burial,” Adam smiled fondly at the night sky. “Goodness, what a man.” 

James eyed him, “Right.” 

“We should kill the fire,” Harry suggested, groaning as he got up to do so, Gabriel beating him at stomping it out with his worn-down boots. It was the bloodiest war in the history of bloody wars, finally over and a marker to celebrate who stood up for what was right. 

“Pack your things, piss if you need to. We leave in thirty minutes,” James informed, proudly fixing his Union jacket. “We shouldn’t have too much trouble even if we do run into some southies, but just in case, make sure all your guns are loaded.”

“Yes, sir,” Adam said through a smile, a bit busy pawing at the tiny picture of his wife that he had kept in his breast pocket for the last four years. “Gosh, Laura must be at least three feet tall by now.” 

James patted him on the back, “Come over for supper, all three of you. Lizzie’s going to cook up the biggest roast she’s ever baked in her life, she told me so last letter.” 

Adam punched his shoulder, “I will take you up on that.” 

“Let’s go,” Gabriel beckoned with a motion of his head, carrying one of James’ bags as he had sustained an arm injury a few weeks ago. “It’s nearly midnight.” 

The forest was thicker than smoke rising from a heavy fire, nearly impossible to see through even with two torches and the moon shining over them. “Hey, Jamie,” 

“Yeah, Cherry?” James whispered, his looking over automatically sparked Harry’s curiosity further. 

“What’re you grabbing at?” Harry pointed to James’ hand, which was tightly wrapped around a necklace he’d never seen before fastened around his neck. 

“M’cross. Go ahead of me,” James shut it down immediately, pushing Harry in front of him so that he was the last in the line. “If you see another light, you know what to do.” 

“Alright,” Harry’s voice tipped more towards a question, but as far as curiosity goes, it was not worth accidentally giving away their location to the bloody southern bastards. “Gabe, go left. We’re steering east.” 

“O-kay,” Gabriel twanged, making his steps as silent as a cat ready to strike upon its prey. He’s always been the best stalker out of all of them; the best hunter. 

“Once we make the clearing, we should sing a song,” Adam snickered, “Thank God and Mary.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” James snapped sternly, “Keep going.” 

“Jamie,” Harry whispered, slowing down so that they were at each other’s sides. “Your arm hurting?” 

“No, Cherry, M’fine,” James ruffled his hair. “Ha, when we get back, you better plant a cherry tree somewhere.” 

Harry’s eyes twinkled underneath the firelight. “And you’ll plant a hydrangea bush, lieutenant?” 

James scoffed, “If I can find one. Soldiers don’t become Rockefeller after we win a war, you know.” 

“And who said I had the pennies for a cherry tree?” Harry narrowed his eyes at him. “Now that I think about it, it does sound kind of stupid. Stop callin’ me Cherry from now on.” 

James flashed him a smile, “Never.” 

“Would you two stop it? Always yellin’ at us for talking and yet you’re back there chitter chattering away like a couple of girls,” Adam taunted, voice getting a bit softer as the clearing was coming into view. “We’re nearly in Pennsylvania, boys.” 

“Don’t accidentally go into Mary-land now,” Gabriel warned. “Cherry, we going in the right direction?”

“Keep straight, dimwits.” 

James smiled, thumbing the pendant around his neck just a bit firmer. 

Suddenly, a branch snapped behind them and he immediately killed the torch into some mud, silently barking with a swing of his hand for Adam to do the same. His first instinct should’ve been to hide himself and hope the others understood, but instead he yanked Harry down with him and together they rolled under some bushes. 

“What?” Harry whispered. “Is someone following us?” 

“Shh,” James covered his mouth with his hand, holding his breath with his ear out in the open. The snapped branch was at least fifteen feet away, but having the most trained ears out of all of them, James would have probably heard it even if it was thirty feet away. “It’s probably just a kid.” 

“You don’t know that,” Harry hissed, failing to stop him when James shimmied out from under the bush on his back. “Jamie!” 

“Shut up,” James warned, getting onto his knees to peer out into the darkness. Once he got up onto only one of them, a bullet flew past and hit the tree trunk next to him, falling down into the mud. Shooting from that far meant two things. 

The gunman was at least thirty feet away, and no Union soldier would be stupid enough to start shooting from that distance ‘cause he’d know it wouldn’t take. So it was probably a kid the Confederates recruited trying to prove himself. 

The second he stood up, though, he realized he was wrong in the most horrifying way. 

“Agh!” A bullet hit his right leg and he toppled onto the ground, pulling a horrified gasp from Harry. James shouted at them to go right, to go towards Maryland, but only the two ahead of him listened. He managed to shoot a warning shot into the darkness, dragging his way back under the bush. “Cherry, go!” He whisper-yelled, shoving Harry’s body. “Go now!” 

Harry shook his head at him, ripping his shirt to tie James’ leg off and stop the bleeding. “No. I’m not leaving you.” 

“You’ve gotta, there might be more than one,” James bit his words through, pleading with his eyes and hands for Harry to run. He refused, however, getting even closer to James and pressing down on the wound with his entire body to stop the bleeding. “Harry!” 

“I’m not going, sir,” Harry’s voice wavered. “You have a son to get home to. I got no one.”

“And you never will if you don’t leave,” James hissed, covering Harry’s face again with his hand when another branch snapped, closer now. They laid down onto their stomachs and held their breaths, hearing at least three pairs of footsteps rush by them. James closed his eyes. Now it was definitely too late for him to shove Harry into the clearing where the Union soldiers were waiting. 

They laid there in the darkness until they were sure that the threat was gone, Harry propping James up against a tree where the moon could shine a light on them. “You’re bleeding an awful lot, sir.” 

“It hit a vein, Cherry,” James panted, his blood burning behind his cheeks. “I’m not gonna make it.” 

“Yes you are,” Harry, with so much resolve, swung James’ arm around his shoulder and tried to lift him, nearly in tears when he couldn’t. 

“I weigh forty pounds more than you,” James slumped onto the floor until Harry propped him back up again. “We haven’t eaten in three days, you can’t carry me anywhere, no matter how close it is.” 

“It’s a thirty minute walk,” Harry’s voice wavered, “We can make it.” 

“Nope,” James managed to land a hand on the top of Harry’s head. “I’ve got four years on you, soldier. You go when I tell you to go.” 

“No,” Harry stubbornly shook his head. “We’ll wait until help arrives. Gabe and Adam made it across, I just know.” 

“They went towards Maryland, not Pennsylvania. No help over there,” James sighed, breaths coming out much too short for his liking. Harry looked down from his eyes to his chest, frowning slightly. 

“That’s…that’s not a cross,” Harry observed out loud, staring at the pendant that had swung out from under his shirt. James broke it off his neck to show him. 

“It’s not,” James wheezed. “It’s a pagan sigil. My grandmother’s.”

“Your grandmother was a pagan?” Harry admonished. 

“My grandmother was a lot of things, now shut up,” James laughed. “She believed in magic, like real magic, not the tricks the colonel uses to keep cadets in line. Stories and love potions and dancing with gods and goddesses.” 

“Idols?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Aren’t you a Christian?” 

James laughed, groaning when it was a bad idea to do so. “Yeah, about that. Not as God-fearing as I always said I was.” 

Harry blinked at him, fascinated by the wooden carving with a tree in the center, shaped in a way where one couldn’t tell where it started or where it ended. “She used to tell me that you could bless and curse people with these,” James’ hand was starting to shake, so Harry grabbed it and squeezed as hard as he could. “And you know what, Cherry, you should—you should tell me what you want.” 

Harry’s eyes widened, “I don’t know if—“

“I’m dying, goddammit, let me do this for you,” James begged. “Tell me your greatest wish.” 

Harry’s face was covered in mud, but James could’ve sworn he blushed. “Alright, Cherry. Don’t say anything, then.”

Harry gulped, his green eyes sparkling with tears. “Sorry.” 

“Just shut up, will you?” James outstretched an arm to beckon Harry with, pulling him in until they were hugging. “I’m about to say some really frightening words in Gaelic, so don’t move or else I’ll say something wrong and you’ll become a toad.” 

Harry did the cross motion across his chest before nodding and snuggling into James’ hold. 

“Stop being cute. Don’t race me to hell,” James sniffed, beginning to lose feeling in his legs and fingertips. Before he went completely numb, though, he traced a drawing onto Harry’s cheek, trying his best to ignore how Harry’s hands gripped his shoulders just a bit tighter.  _ “The boy in front of me is nothing but the...child of earth, blood and soil. A boy who believes he’s a man that has outlived too many. Bind him to…forest, lead him there with…or wheels, let it be known…I love him. That alone should...enough until we meet again.”  _

The last ten minutes of his life, and he’s just spent it worrying whether or not he said some silly words wrong. There was shouting coming from behind them, and this time, Harry had to let go, scrambling off towards the Pennsylvania clearing. James sat back, enjoyed the soft light, whistling trees, then finally dropping his grandmother’s promise far into the soil somewhere, wishing and wanting with all his heart that one day it would grow to bring him happiness. 

* * *

Zayn woke up with a gasp, exhaling sharply and backing up onto the headboard. He looked to his side and realized that he woke Harry up, who was groggily rubbing his eyes and sporting a rat nest on the top of his head. “Zayn? Are you okay?” 

“We fell asleep?” Zayn asked, a lot louder than he had meant to, making Harry wince and cover his ears. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Harry sat up, and Zayn realized that he was wearing his ex’s old pajamas. “What’s wrong?” 

“When did we…” Zayn pointed to his clothes and then his own. “I gave you a toothbrush too?” He held Harry’s chin. 

“You don’t remember?” Harry murmured, reaching a hand up to brush Zayn’s hair out of his face. “Must’ve been one wild dream.”

“You have no idea,” Zayn giggled despite himself, leaning forward to press a kiss to Harry’s lips. “Your fever’s gone down.”

Harry smiled against it, wrapping an arm around Zayn’s waist and pulling him onto his lap. “I feel a lot better, thanks to you. I would’ve been shivering alone in my own bed.” 

“Oh, so now I’m just a bed warmer?” Zayn poked his cheek, scrunching his nose up in a laugh when Harry looked genuinely offended. “I’m kidding. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Mm,” Harry kissed at his neck, making Zayn’s eyes flutter shut. “You’re so warm.”

“Weirdo,” Zayn rolled his eyes, “I’m not your teddy bear.” 

“That’s right, you’re my Bam—“

“Don’t say it, I’ll throw up,” Zayn laughed, squirming when Harry nipped, then his breath hitched when Harry’s hand wandered to his inner thigh. “We haven’t discussed sex yet.” 

“This isn’t sex, that’s for one,” Harry retorted, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “Can I just appreciate you for a moment in a very primal and ungentlemanlike way?”

“I mean, sure,” Zayn acted standoffish about it, but squeaked when Harry pinched his hip. “Stop it!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” He put his hands up. “I just can’t help myself.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Zayn scoffed. He moved the corners of his lips side to side. “When was the last time you had sex?” 

“That’s a bit embarrassing to converse about at three in the morning.”

Zayn hummed, thrumming his thumbs on Harry’s shoulders, “Well, the last time I had sex, the guy I was with made me come three times.” 

Harry choked, poor thing. 

* * *

Harry aggressively set down his mug of coffee. “Three times?” 

Zayn blinked once at him, the look of pure horror strewn across his face. “My baby sisters are right there.” 

Harry looked at them expectantly, to which they shrugged in unison. “They have no idea what we’re talking about.” 

Zayn flicked him. “Eat your damn polenta.”

“I despise polenta, actually,” Harry snubbed him off. “I much prefer grits.” 

Zayn laughed into his tea, but frowned again when Safaa pushed her plate of polenta away at Harry’s words. “Oh, now look what you’ve done.” 

Harry shrugged and picked Safaa up, hugging her to his chest. “I have one loyal friend by my side, isn’t that right, little one?” 

Safaa laughed at him and widened her eyes. “Okay.” 

Harry’s eyes fluttered, “Zayn, did you teach her this insolent habit? Why do I feel as though I’ve been owned?” 

Waliyha flew off her chair once she took a look at the clock, “Bus bus bus bus!” 

“Brush your teeth, you animal,” Zayn called out, sighing when Harry began to whisper something to Safaa in a scheming, conniving manner. “I lied. It was actually four times.” 

“What four times?” Safaa asked innocently, which made Zayn sputter into his mug and Harry laughed maniacally. “You okay, Zee?” 

“Yeah, bub, ‘course,” Zayn stood up and scooped her from Harry’s arms, walking out the front door. Five minutes later, he came back empty handed and with smoke coming out of his ears. “Are you  _ that _ insecure, grandpa?” 

“We haven’t even made out yet,” Harry complained, “And then you go off about your ex-boyfriend and just what an absolute  _ god _ he was in bed and I’m starting to feel a bit hurt.” 

“We've made out,” Zayn put a hand up. “And I’m sorry? I’ve just wanted...I just…” 

“You just…?” 

“I just wanted you to think that Iwassexy,” Zayn mumbled, looking away with hot cheeks. 

“Sorry, what?” 

Zayn looked like a crushed tomato, “I wanted you to think I was...sexy. Wow, I’m an idiot.”

Harry came forward and brushed his face with the side of his hand. He then swooped down and kissed his eyelid. “You are the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. No need to compensate for anything, you’ve got me hooked and ready to gut.” 

“That’s a terrible metaphor,” Zayn hit his chest lightly, but still accepted the next kiss to his lips. He sighed into the next one after that, melting into Harry’s arms. The top of his head fit perfectly underneath Harry’s chin, and hugging his firm and snatched waist really did make it feel that God was real. “Harry, you’re a great hugger.” 

Harry snorted, “Okay, Zayn.” They swayed together for a bit, tender nuzzles until Harry finally bent down to lift Zayn from behind the thighs, securing him around his waist with arms around his neck. 

“Have you ever heard that expression “Climb you like a tree?” Zayn asked, laughing into Harry’s neck when he looked confused. 

“That sounds mildly offensive,” Harry commented, easily bounding up the stairs and making Zayn bounce with him. “Is it offensive? Did you just insult me?” 

Zayn shook his head, a little turned on at the fact that Harry really just  _ did _ that. “It’s incredibly sexual. There’s also one about being sat down on a merry-go-round and spun.” 

He blushed in response, pushing the door open with his foot. “I think I catch your drift. His face reflexively winked when Zayn kissed him again, stumbling onto the bed until Harry’s legs were in between Zayn’s sprawled out ones, inching further and further towards the headboard. 

“Shit,” Zayn cursed softly, pulling back to pant into Harry’s shoulder. “There’s—there’s lube in the drawer.” 

“Okay,” Harry peeled his shirt off first, ripping a full on moan from Zayn as he gazed upon him. “You’re making me blush, stop that.” 

“You have side muscles,” Zayn choked, covering his mouth with his hands. “Your abs have abs.” 

Harry craned around and grabbed the bottle, cracking it open and rubbing some through his fingers. “Your turn.” 

Zayn nodded, wiggling until his legs weren’t being held open by Harry’s thighs, pulling his zipper down before pausing, “Don’t you dare laugh at my underwear.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Harry swooped down, his free hand sliding underneath Zayn’s shirt. Once Zayn shimmied free of his pants, he couldn’t help but smile fondly. “Is that…Paddington?” 

Zayn flapped his feet around and slapped his chest. “You bully. You said you wouldn’t laugh.” 

“It’s got oranges,” Harry traced the illustrations, “This is absolutely brilliant. I want a pair now,” He said as he aggressively yanked them off, backing Zayn up until his head met the pillows. 

“Take your pants off,” Zayn whined softly, squirming under Harry’s gaze. “Come on,” He gasped when Harry’s hand rubbed its fingers over his hole, he really couldn’t stop wiggling. 

“Come on, baby,” Harry rasped, pressing soft kisses to his neck. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Zayn squeezed his eyes shut when the first one entered, his hands gripping onto Harry’s arms. “Fuck, your fingers are really, I mean, wow, I,” 

“Shhh,” Harry laughed, shaking his head into Zayn’s. “You’re just the cutest thing ever, aren’t you?” 

Zayn nodded and bit his lip when Harry began to move it in back and forth, then began to lightly scratch down Harry’s back. “Oh, fuck.” 

“Another one?” Harry asked gently, softly rubbing the inside of Zayn’s thigh. “Your skin’s gone pink, it’s so cute.” 

“Stop saying dumb shit,” Zayn seethed, grinding down onto Harry’s hand desperately. “Right there,”

“Okay, baby,” Harry complied, pressing right where he wanted it. “You look so gorgeous like this.” 

Zayn yelped in surprise when Harry added a second finger, closing his eyes again when he began to nibble at his ears. “Why?” He asked, unable to control the small sounds emitted from the back of his throat. 

“They’re so cute,” Harry answered, caressing Zayn’s face. “And your hair is so soft,” He grabbed it, extracting a moan from the receiver. “Do you like it when I pull it?” 

“I do,” Zayn whimpered, unable to concentrate with Harry’s fingers beckoning forwards and pressing on his spot. “Fuck, can you—can you use more lube?” 

“Mhm,” Harry kissed him, reaching for the bottle. “I can feel it, like this little nub and every time I touch it you clench around my fingers and make cute noises. Love that.” 

“I think this means you should fuck me,” Zayn panted, covering his face in embarrassment when Harry took the rest of their clothes off. “Why did you have to be a giant everywhere?” 

Harry blushed, settling back in between Zayn’s legs as he rolled on a condom. “You wanna stop?” 

Zayn’s eyes snapped open, “Shut up, I was complimenting you.” He laughed when Harry lifted the backs of his knees and came closer, letting his tongue slip into his mouth. Their hands grabbed at each other as though the world would end if they didn’t, the messy pieces of Zayn’s hair sticking to his forehead. 

Harry was just so good, it was the most difficult thing to explain. The way he held his body slightly from the mattress, letting cold air flow to his back and making sure the sheets didn’t get tangled in between them, letting his head back down gently onto the pillow every few moments. He just  _ knew _ when to, that was another thing. Zayn would extend a leg or arm towards a part of the bed still cold from the air conditioning, and immediately, he’d get lifted and Harry tries so hard to act like it was all an accident. 

He wouldn’t let Zayn cover his face, his was in too close of a proximity for Zayn’s hands to do much but scratch down the length of his back, twist the pillows beneath his head. He was a guy that somehow managed to make the action of touching noses more intimate than frenching. 

His dick was huge, though, all of these descriptors couldn’t possibly put it in an eloquent way. “Harry,” 

“Yeah, baby,” Harry whispered, groaning right into his ear as he thrusted forwards, shoving Zayn up the bed little by little and pulling sweet ‘ah, ah, ah’s out from his lips. 

“You’re crushing me,” Zayn managed to make out in between aggressively biting down on Harry’s shoulders. “You’re too big.” 

“Sorry,” Harry let up just a little, enough to put the weight off but still having the warmth of his body radiate onto Zayn’s. “You’re really tight.” 

“Haven’t been fucked in a while,” Zayn explained, holding back a scream when Harry started to jackrabbit into him, more like jack _ hammer _ , and it was safe to say that this was probably the most intimate position he’d ever been in. 

Harry was broad and heavy, so he pinned him down without even trying. His dick slipped out in his frenzied thrusting, so Zayn watched as he gripped the base of it and guided it back between his legs, and all he could really do was relax and take it. 

It felt hot and heavy inside of him, when it moved back and forth it took his whole body with it, making him shake with pleasure and sweat ran off his chin. 

Then Harry just laid on top of Zayn, resting his head on his shoulder and holding him flush against him. “Fuck!” 

“Yeah,” Harry groaned loudly, propelling his hips harder with his hand pressing open Zayn’s inner thigh. “No one ever tell you how good you are at taking dick?”

Zayn couldn’t respond, just laid there and held on, mind reaching into that familiar floaty space with his burning skin left all at Harry’s disposal to rub and grip however he pleased. 

It all got too much too fast, the pressure building up to the point that Zayn started to cry under him. He had never felt this way before. 

A guy who was able to render him so completely useless, overpowering his body until all he could do was be little and good and  _ cry out _ , letting him ravage his hole like he was being claimed.

“Harry?” Zayn whimpered, breaths coming out in strained pants. “Can we stop? Please?” 

Harry heard him sniffling and automatically pulled back, horrified at the way Zayn was crying and trying to cover himself. “Oh my god, fuck, I’m so sorry,” He bent over to pull out as gently as he could. “Zayn, babe?” 

He wrapped Zayn up in the duvet and brought him close, whispering apologizes repeatedly until he shook his head. 

“It’s not you, just—just,” Zayn sobbed, heaving into Harry’s neck. “It felt good, I just—“ 

“It’s okay, Bambi,” Harry gently pulled him onto his lap, nuzzling the sides of their faces together. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve never had someone as big and heavy as you on me,” Zayn admitted. “And I guess it got overwhelming, because I...this is the first time we’ve had sex and I don’t think I was ready to just give in to you like that.” 

Harry nodded, kissing his eyelid. “I didn’t hurt you?” 

Zayn shook his head, coming closer to kiss Harry back. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no,” Harry untangled Zayn’s hair with his fingers. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” 

They sat there for a few more minutes until Harry awkwardly scratched his head and asked, “So...you wanna watch a movie?” 

Zayn snorted, “No, are you fucking kidding me? It’s like I’m sitting on a rock right now,” His words made Harry squirm and blush in discomfort. “Lay on your back.” 

Harry did as he was told, trying to keep his cool as Zayn straddled his hips and held onto the sides of his torso. “I think we need more lube.” 

“Yes, yes, always more lube,” Harry agreed, his words coming out higher pitched than he intended. He watched Zayn struggle to hold himself up as he slathered his cock with more lube and couldn’t help but start to hyperventilate at the sight of him on top of his body, beautifully lean and toned. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Shush,” Zayn snapped, but it came out as a beg as he leaned forward, reaching back to slap Harry’s cock against his hole. With his eyes closed, he eased himself onto it, trying not to stiffen up at how incredibly vulnerable this position was, Harry thumbing at his pelvis with his hands held securely around his waist. 

“Would you like some help?” Harry squeaked nervously when Zayn yanked his dick firmly in frustration. “Here, Bambi,” 

“Oh, stop,” Zayn’s face was red, so there was no way Harry was gonna stop. “Bambi is so stupid.” 

Harry giggled, bringing Zayn’s face forward for a kiss to distract from how he was angling his cock in order to push into Zayn, “Fuck, there we go,” He released, and Zayn’s eyebrows knit together. “Sit down, Bambi.” 

He got a fierce glare in response, but Zayn sat up nonetheless, resting his hands on Harry’s chest as he experimentally rocked his hips back and forth. 

“Yeah,” Zayn moaned, skin slapping onto Harry’s as he bounced more aggressively. “Holy fuck?” 

“It’s a question?” Harry laughed, sitting up a bit and grabbing Zayn’s bony hips to bounce him harder in his lap. “You look so good, baby.”

“Fuck,” Zayn whined, holding onto Harry’s shoulders as he was tossed about, trying not to let the smug man in front of him get even more smug by how obvious it was that it felt good. “I’m good, yeah.” 

Harry tipped his head to the side in a question, holding Zayn’s body closer to him as he lifted his knees and began rutting up into him. “You’re good?”

“I’m so, so good,” Zayn whined again like a brat, shivering every time Harry filthily groaned into his ear. “I’m good.” 

Harry finally caught one once Zayn’s little hand reached up and fished around for Harry’s, intertwining them together as he struggled to hold in all the pleasure he was feeling. “Yeah, sweetheart. You’re so good,” He praised, biting and marking up Zayn’s neck. “You’re the best. Such a good, such a good boy?” 

Zayn moaned in response, throwing his head back and showing off his glorious bare neck, so of course Harry couldn’t resist yanking on his hair to expose it some more. “You like that, huh? Like when I pull your hair like the little bitch you are?” 

Zayn positively  _ wailed, _ nodding so fervently Harry nearly lost his grip on his head. “Yeah, yea—yeah!” 

Harry preened at that, absolutely besotted with how Zayn was acting, warming his cock while squirming to relieve some of the pressure off his own cock. “Are you close, Bambi?”

Zayn whimpered and dug his face into Harry’s neck, nodding bashfully as though there was still room for shame. Harry let go of Zayn's hand to creep towards his cock, gently rubbing his length up and down, paying special attention to the vein on the underside. “You could come from this, yeah? You’re gonna come so fucking hard.” He growled into his ear, his other arm pinning Zayn flush against his chest as they desperately rocked together on the bed. 

“Harry?” Zayn asked timidly, softly pawing his chest as his eyes went glossy. “Fuck.” 

“You’re cute,” Harry said out loud without thinking, reaching forward to kiss Zayn’s nose. “Like, really, really—“

“You were so sexy just a second ago,” Zayn groaned, pushing himself down faster, clamping down around Harry desperately chasing his release. “I’m so close.” 

“I know, I can feel it,” Harry cooed, pressing down on the small of Zayn’s back to access his prostate even better. 

“M’gonna come,” Zayn snuffled, panting as he watched his whole hands not even getting close to covering the expanse of Harry’s collarbone. He felt so little. “I’m…”

His words cut off when his orgasm came unexpectedly, thighs quivering as he helplessly flopped and spurted all over Harry’s chest. 

“Damn,” Harry grunted, riding Zayn through it. “That was hot.” 

Zayn nodded, squeaking when Harry bit his ear. He  _ squeaked. _ “You can,” 

“Hm?” 

“You can flip me over now.” 

Harry made such a happy noise Zayn couldn’t help but smile until he was unceremoniously tossed on his back, Harry  _ still inside him _ as he joined their hands and leaned his chest onto Zayn’s. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Zayn wrapped his legs around Harry and bit his lip, suddenly feeling very shy and spacey. 

“I’m close,” Harry informed, strained and eyebrows furrowed. He rutted into Zayn like a madman, gripping the sheets with one hand and the other underneath him and holding Zayn’s shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Zayn mouthed, in absolute ecstacy watching Harry throw his head back and bury his hips home, body shaking because of him.  _ He _ did that. 

“Gimme kiss,” Harry slurred, smiling and probably feeling just as high as Zayn did, pursing his lips onto him. “You’re amazing.”

Zayn snorted, clenching his jaw as Harry pulled out. “You’re telling me?” 

“Don’t go nowhere,” Harry kissed his head and hopped off the mattress, bare ass walking away until it disappeared into the bathroom. “Are you alright?” He asked loudly, over the sound of rushing water and him most definitely wetting a washcloth. Zayn was in love. 

“I’m…” Zayn flopped back onto the bed and waited for Harry to come back, wiggling his toes to make sure they still wiggled. When he did, he subtly curled in on himself, smiling when Harry bent down to wipe Zayn’s face. 

“Your hair gets so soft when you sweat,” Harry commented, gently pushing the strands stuck to his face away. “And your eyes are so shiny.” 

“Shush,” Zayn closed his eyes just to spite him, but also because they were indeed shiny. They say your eyes glisten when you gaze upon the person you’re deeply attracted to. 

Harry moved down and cleaned off Zayn’s tummy, then gently in between his legs, then got up to grab some clothes, helping Zayn into them before picking him up, shedding the bed of the sheets and throwing them onto the floor. “Where’s the extras?” 

Zayn clung to him like a koala before pointing to the closet, heart getting all fluttery at how easy it was for Harry to just carry him around. He whined when Harry lowered him to fix the sheet on, awkwardly standing to the side as this strange, wonderful man made his bed. 

Then Harry grabbed his arm and made him fall on top of him, wiggling around until Zayn’s head was lying on his arm and the duvet was pulled up to their chests. “I like cuddling after sex,” Harry said nonchalantly, manuevering and manhandling him until his face was pressed into Zayn’s neck, sighing contentedly as he closed his eyes. 

“Okay,” Zayn whispered, a hand coming down onto Harry’s shoulder blade as he breathed against him, that and the soft beats of Harry’s heart lulling him to a dreamless sleep. 

Speaking of dreams, Zayn decided not to tell Harry about what he dreamt last night, if it were a premonition or a vision or actually nothing at all. It was going to ruin this wonderful thing they had going on, and there was no way Zayn was going to jeopardize the amount of  _ happy _ he’s been feeling for the first time in a while. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, over half of this chapter was smut. My god, you better love meeeeee
> 
> Also I’m dying to know what you think, but I am also bad at taking criticism so please be nice to me 🥺🥺  
> -j


	6. important and anxious announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t an update I’m sorry! Update is soon to come!

Hello guys! I thought that I would come out here and make an announcement and see how you guys are doing.

I know this is a very scary time for everyone, and a time to not be taken lightly. I sincerely hope that each and every one of you is taking proper safety precautions, social distancing, and finding lots of ways to spend time inside. If you or any of your close family members are  
sick or are more susceptible than the general population, I sympathize with you, am praying for you, and wishing with all my heart for it to get better.

I know that this isn’t the tightest, most intimate community on AO3 here. It’s more of a lawless port filled with creative liberties and a place to stay anonymous. But it you’re comfortable with it, let me know down in the comments how you’re doing! Let me know what you’re doing to keep yourself occupied, how you’re staying informed, and what fanfics you’re currently reading! I am ALWAYS on the lookout for new gems to bookmark. Send them my way, gimme gimme.

Now, on another note, I have something to ask of you guys. I currently have a lot of ideas in my folder of stories that I’d like to share with you, but am afraid of some topics that might not be taken well within my usual crowd of readers. (Love you guys, by the way.)

I am someone who is unsurprised by most, and is willing to go to the farthest depths of creativity to improve my craft. Things like ABO don’t scare me, as well as literally 75% of the crazy shit people post on this site. I’m all for it, because again, it’s a place to experiment and find new avenues to tell an entertaining story!

So let me know down in the comments what you personally think about

-Zayn/Harry/Liam/Louis/Niall five way relationship fic  
-Intersex Omegas  
-Zayn/Niall  
-Bottom Harry (since I know people tend to prefer Bottom Zayn)

because all of these ideas are currently in the works right now. However, I’d hate to publish something and have it not understood. Thank you again for reading, letting me know that you’d read my work, and just being alive. It means so much to me that every single one of you is out there!

Let’s make it a group family thingy. Let’s all keep in touch on this site, because I guarantee you there is nothing that inspires me to write more than seeing you guys react to it. Love you all.

Lots of Love,  
Jellie.


	7. everything is not what it seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi I’m baaaaack! Also this is unedited and way overdue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reference to one of my favorite Ziall fics in this chapter! If you can find the subtle reference, you get extra points.

Harry has never been a piner. 

He didn’t chase. He didn’t ask. He didn’t tell. 

It’s how he responded to the shame of knowing that he would probably outlive anyone he’ll ever love, more so how he adapted to the fear of ever having to  _ tell _ the person he loved that he’ll outlive them. 

With Zayn, however, there was a twinge in his sense to maybe, just maybe, risk it all. 

It was the third time since they first slept together that they were hanging out. At the park, Waliyha and Safaa were playing in the grass with Hippo, Zayn smiling fondly at them in the way that only big brothers can, with pride and familial admiration. “You’re beautiful,” He blurted out without thinking, quickly going red when Zayn turned his head to look at him. 

“What?”

Harry had a frog in his throat, “You’re…” 

“I’m…?” 

Zayn’s eyes fluttered when Harry couldn’t say anything after that, just assuming that he probably shouldn’t bully Harry into answering anymore. “You’re right, I am beautiful.” 

Harry made a soft noise and ducked his head, trying to quell the fast paced beating of his heart. The light was perfect today, absolutely perfect. The sun reflecting off the leaves of all the trees, making Zayn’s face glow even brighter if that were even possible. His lips looked soft and Harry just wanted to reach a hand out to touch them, his cheekbones creating the loveliest edges into his jaw and perfect nose. 

He could even smell his detergent from here, which in itself was an absolute knockout. Holy shit. “What do you want to do after this?” 

Zayn looked over quite seriously and replied, “I’m going to quit my job.” 

Harry’s jaw shut and he went silent. “Hm?” 

Zayn laughed, leaning close to grab Harry’s face and loosen his jaw again. “The life insurance money came in. It’s enough to support the three of us for the rest of our lives, let’s just say that. Or until the girls get old enough to put me in a retirement home.”

“Oh,” Harry didn’t know what to say to that. “Don’t you like your job?” 

“God, maybe. But it didn’t really give me anything, you know? I just went because I knew I had to, and we did alright. I could still work technically, but I’m almost never home,” Zayn sighed, “I want to spend more time with them.” 

Harry didn’t know if this was the right time to crack a joke or not, but, “I never got life insurance.” 

Zayn snorted and looked at him like he was so strange, but it was almost an indifference to his strangeness. “That’s funny. You’re a pretty funny guy.” 

“Glad you think so.” Harry poked Zayn’s side with his elbow, and after a moment of silent consideration, Zayn poked back. 

“What do you reckon you would’ve been worth now?” Zayn asked, sticking his tongue out at Waliyha when she turned around to face them. 

“Probably over five million,” Harry scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t tell Louis though, she’ll get ideas.” 

Zayn giggled, “Okay, I won’t,” He smiled at Harry, and suddenly the air was jittery and awkward again. “Do you...want to play a game?” 

“What kind of game?” It was so obvious that Harry had absolutely no idea how to continue this, because if there  _ was _ something (and both of them were pretty darn sure), one of them had to step up. 

“Just answering questions back and forth,” Zayn shrugged, leaning back onto the bench and turning to face Harry, his side resting on the back. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?” 

Harry was baffled, “I do not,” He sputtered, blinking a bit too quickly to feign any confidence in that answer. 

“Well, you do. You start talking—ha, you start talking to your dog in your sleep,” Zayn teased, “C’mere, Hippo! Who’s a good girl? You are, you’re the best girl!” 

“Oh god, shush, please,” Harry rubbed at his temples. “You must think I’m such a loser.”

“It’s cute. Honest,” Zayn laughed, pulling Harry’s hands away. “Don’t hide from that.” 

“M’ not hiding,” Harry deflected, instinctively rubbing his thumbs over Zayn’s hands. He was so focused on that that he didn’t notice Zayn leaning closer and closer. “Wha—what’re you doing?” 

“Nothing,” Zayn leaned back, even looking the other way. He let Harry caress his hands for a few more moments before he became sick of it. “Do you like, have a hand fetish or somethin’?” 

“No, I just think your hands are very beautiful,” Harry smiled at him. “Everything about you is just so fair.” 

Zayn flushed, “You can’t just say things like that.” 

“Why not?” Harry looked up at him, eyes flashing. His green one was particularly bright today. “If I said anything else I’d be lying.” 

“Well, I’m not lying if I say that we’re not soulmates,” Zayn interjected, and Harry became crestfallen. 

“I thought we were playing a game,” He pouted, so Zayn reached forward and pinched his cheek. “Did you know that you start whining if I stop cuddling you in your sleep?” 

“Do I now?” His voice went an octave higher. “That’s embarrassing, let me just go and walk into the street right now.” He dramatically stood up, but the second he did, Harry yanked back down, this time onto his lap, breaths touching each other’s faces with how close they were. 

“No one tell you how wrong I am for you?” Zayn asked, leaning so close that the strands of hair on his forehead were tickling Harry’s nose. 

“Is that another question?” Harry responded by wrapping his arms around his waist. He could’ve sworn he heard gasps from the moms behind them, but there was no room for any fucks to give. “Because I think you know by now that no matter what anyone were to tell me, I don’t listen to anyone but myself.” 

“Is that so?” 

“It’s my turn, Bambi.” 

Zayn wiggled in complaint, curling Harry’s hair in between his fingers and moving it away from his face. “Your hair is so amazing.” 

“If I asked you out to dinner right now, would you say yes?” Harry blurted out, cutting Zayn’s train of thought off from focusing on locks and shampoo smells to the lull of a restaurant, the chatter, the cool breeze from the air conditioning whisking in smells of sustenance and romance. 

Zayn opened his mouth, but it took a bit longer than five seconds before he could actually reply. “I—yes.”

Harry grinned so widely you could hear his lips splitting, white teeth flashing directly into Zayn’s face. “You barely hesitated.” 

Zayn was going to retort, but was cut off by a shrill shriek coming from the playground, where Safaa was screaming Zayn’s name in an absolute hysterical fit, Waliyha watching her sister wail from the top of the slide. 

“Saf? What happened?” Zayn crawled off of Harry’s lap, a little embarrassed as he ran over and picked his sister up, cooing and cuddling her. Hippo whined and trotted towards Harry as he followed, taking the initiative to lift Waliyha off the play structure and down to the ground level. 

“I fell,” Safaa managed to articulate, sniveling when Hippo got in her face and started to lick her. “No,”

“C’mon, Hippo, Safaa needs a moment to be dramatic,” Harry scolded, earning an outright chuckle from Waliyha where she was positioned in Harry’s arm, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

“Where does it hurt?” Zayn asked kindly, gasping loudly for her sake when she showed him her lightly scraped knee. “Oh, no, Saf,” He kissed her head. “Feel better?” 

Safaa looked at him like he was an idiot, and Harry burst out laughing at her expression of utter disappointment and confusion. “I’ve got some Neosporin in my pocket.” 

“You carry Neosporin in your pocket?” Zayn asked incredulously, eyeing the tube when Harry handed it to him. “Weirdo.” 

“Where else am I to carry it? In my hair?” Harry asked, letting Waliyha tug gently on Hippo’s ears as they tended to the younger one, gently applying some ointment to her knee. “Now does it feel better?”

Safaa sniffled, “Yes.” 

“Are you ready to continue playing?” Zayn asked, pushing her hair out of her face. He seemed to really enjoy doing that. When she shook her head and adamantly pouted at him, he sighed and shook his head back. “You have not moved on from this conflict, Saf. You fell off the first time, so go back up there and climb down like the way you should’ve.” 

Harry was trying really hard to admire Zayn’s tactics, but the way Waliyha was beginning to drool on his shirt was really quite distracting. “Zayn, this one’s falling asleep.” 

“Dun’ wanna,” Safaa sobbed, terrified of going back up the jungle gym. He gave her a stern look, “It’s scary.” 

“It’s a silly, silly thing. I’ll hold you when you come down so that you don’t fall again, okay?” Zayn promised, lifting her up to the top much to her protest. 

She made it down safely all by herself, which was to be expected. By the time they all made it back to Harry’s car, hearts thrumming and fingers feeling electric about their previous conversation, the two little girls were already napping in their respective car seats. “So.”

“What kind of food do you like?” Zayn asked softly, taking in a breath so deep one would’ve thought he was about to go underwater for a long time. “Italian, American, French, Thai, Chinese—“

“Homemade. I like homemade food.” Harry said in a way that made it seem like it was the most obvious thing in the world, expertly pulling out of the parking lot and heading back towards Zayn’s house. Hippo started to periodically snore from the backseat, sandwiched in between her two favorite little children and covered in grass stains. 

“I can’t cook,” Zayn admitted sheepishly. “I’ve burned water before.” 

Harry snorted, “I—I can cook.” 

“I’m quite picky.” 

“I’m up for a challenge.” 

Zayn bit his lip, “I’m  _ the _ challenge.”

Harry reached over with his hand to pat Zayn’s shoulder. “You’re deflecting a bit, don’t you think? If you’ve changed your mind, that’s absolutely fine too.” 

“I haven’t,” Zayn replied in a quiet voice. “I dunno why I do that.” 

“It’s okay,” Harry said warmly, checking the rearview mirror to make sure the girls were alright. He didn’t think Zayn would notice, but he noticed. “I can throw together whatever’s in your fridge for lunch right now.” 

Zayn nodded, facing away from Harry towards the window, the tip of one finger in between his teeth as the edges of his lips curled into a smile. Safaa started to kick and whine again by the time they were only a couple streets away, frustrated with how sleepy she was. 

“Life is so hard, bubs, I know,” Zayn sympathized as best he could, turning around to watch her squirm some more before finally just submitting to the call of slumber. “Waliyha’s been the easier one these days. I don’t think I like it.” 

“Is she growing up a bit too fast for your liking?” Harry chuckled, pulling into their driveway. “Can Hippo come inside?” 

Zayn gave him a look, “Of course she can, you silly idiot.” They got out of the car, a little girl in each pair of arms, Hippo obediently following Harry towards the house. 

“I think you need better flowers,” Harry commented as Zayn fiddled with his keys. “Your lawn’s all dried up as well.” 

“Wanna do it for me?” Zayn joked, but it didn’t sound like he was actually joking. They deposited his sisters onto the couch, languidly yet still nervously strolling further into the house. “I went grocery shopping yesterday so...go all out.” 

Harry tilted Zayn’s chin up with his hand, “Sometimes you just get so shy out of nowhere.”

“I’m a blushing flower,” Zayn drawled, moving Harry’s hand away. “I’ll get you some comfier clothes.” Mumbling as he trudged up the stairs, Harry smiled and opened the refrigerator, not even noticing for a second that when they had passed the entryway mirror, for a split second, Harry’s blue eye glitched. 

* * *

“Everything you do and say never ceases to amaze me,” Zayn happily sighed, stuffing a forkful of whatever the fuck Harry made into his mouth. “I’m being a little dramatic, but it’s all just to say I really love your cooking.” 

Harry smirked, looking awfully pleased with himself, “Thank you. Means a lot.” 

The air felt lazy, hot, and stuffy, yet enough to make one shiver at the same time. “By the way,” Harry asked, “Weren’t you trying to show me something for the last couple of weeks? We keep forgetting.” 

_ We.  _ Zayn liked the sound of that. “Uh, it’s nothing, it was just like this stupid book I got and there was this, uh, really funny passage somewhere. You get the gist.” 

Harry hummed, “Alright,” He looked up at Zayn when he did, locking eyes with each other. “It’s rude to stare at my defect.” 

“You’re the one who started staring at mine first,” Zayn guffawed, “My entire face is a defect.” 

Harry shook his head, reaching over the table to ruffle Zayn’s hair. “You’re beautiful.” 

“Thought I told you to stop that.” 

“You thought wrong. I’m going to keep saying it until you believe it,” Harry cleared the table, his position in Zayn’s kitchen looking so natural and serene, as though this was a scene in a rom-com movie and Harry was going to turn around any minute now and kiss him. He felt bad that he wanted it to happen. He also felt bad that he was hiding probably the most important secret one could be hiding in a situation like this, where it would most definitely sink whatever uneasy waters were happening right now. 

“Zayn,” Harry sounded shy, “Can we take a nap?” 

Zayn raised an eyebrow at him, perfectly sculpted eyes and face turning around to give Harry a look. “Are we actually going to nap?” 

“Yeah, I’m a little tired,” Harry was sheepish, twirling his hair nervously. “Honestly, I’ve never done this before.”

Zayn snorted, “What a liar,” He blinked and Harry’s breath hitched. 

“This is the first time I’ve met someone’s family, slept over, and sat down for a meal I made for them,” Harry looked bashful, “In about six decades.” 

Zayn stopped chewing to swallow and stare at him, “Really?” He fiddled with his food, “And—and how do you like it so far?” 

Harry didn’t want to delay it any longer, “For the last six months I’ve been trying to tell myself that something isn’t there, that this is going to end soon, yada yada,” He looked away, “But I have fallen deeply in love with you, and no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you and—and stupid—stuff like, uh, like,” 

Zayn nodded slowly, “Like?” 

“Like holding your hand,” Harry threw his arms up, “Kissing your cheek, falling asleep next to you.” 

Zayn couldn’t talk. Any coherent thought going through his head was becoming jumbled and mashed in with the wave of emotions that have overcome him, sinking him deeper and deeper into a warm ocean of  _ ohmygodohmygodohmygod.  _

“Falling asleep next to me?” Zayn blushed, “You can’t seriously mean that, it’s too—god, it’s too much.” 

Harry looked broken, “I’m sorry,”

“No, I mean,” Zayn pinched the bridge of his nose and bent down to try and relieve his spinning brain. “God dammit, you make me feel like it’s too much, like I’m—“

“We’re really bad at finishing sentences,” Harry noticed out loud, trying to lighten the incredibly taut atmosphere. “Say it, please.” 

“Like I’m worth something,” Zayn finally blurted out. “You make me feel like I’m the main character in a silly rom-com whose come to save my day and year and life and make everything better, which incidentally is the case, which makes it even more confusing, but all I know is that, is that,” 

Harry stood up, cutting Zayn’s ramble off by bending down to press a kiss to his lips, the latter’s eyes immediately closing as a reflex. “We’re bad at talking. Let’s shut up.” 

Zayn pouted at him adorably, but leaned into his touch regardless, feeling Harry’s finger graze over his thighs and arms as though he was tracing the outline of a Renaissance masterpiece. 

Looking up at him and seeing those eyes, it really did make him feel like one. Zayn pawed at Harry’s shirt after a while, deciding that the cuff of it was offending the lines of his body, eventually pulling it off with just his fingers as his face moved to tongue at his neck. 

“Love, your sisters are upstairs,” Harry rasped, “We shouldn’t.” 

“You should’ve said that before I took off your shirt,” Zayn panted against his lips, crawling on top of him until he was straddling Harry’s lap. “I thought we were shutting up.” 

“I thought we were having lunch,” Harry protested, but made no move to push him away or recline from Zayn’s touch. “Fair is fair.” He peeled Zayn’s shirt up and over his head, tossing high and far across the living room and not paying attention to where it went. 

Meanwhile, Zayn grunted as he fiddled with Harry’s expensive looking belt, teeth clenched, “Fuck.” 

“You’re awfully eager,” Harry chirped, helping Zayn pull it off and that too was thrown across the room in the other direction. “What are you going to do, baby?” 

Zayn shook his head, “I like ‘love’ a lot more,” He got off of the couch and sank onto his knees, unceremoniously manhandling Harry until he was sitting properly with his legs sprawled out on either side of Zayn’s body. The hitch in his breath was enough to let him know that Harry knew exactly what Zayn was gonna do. 

“Love,” Harry nodded, “Love,” He repeated, breathlessly letting Zayn pull off his boxers and bring his hips closer to his face. “Oh my god.” 

Zayn’s breath was warm against him, eyelashes fluttering up to look at his expression, a little concerned that Harry didn’t like what he was doing. Once he got reassurance, “Yes,  _ yes,”  _ He sucked in a sharp breath, reaching with one delicate hand wrapping around Harry’s cock and lightly squeezing. “Ah, fuck.”

Zayn made a soft noise, biting his lip when Harry threw his head back. “Yeah,” He said mostly to himself, opening his mouth and taking the head in just past his teeth. He hasn’t done this many times before, but he figures that it’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t bite it off. 

Harry smells good. Like body wash, laundry detergent, skin, it’s a stark contrast compared to some of the disgusting men Zayn’s been with. Kind of like sunshine, if sunshine were a smell. He mouthed around the length, looking up as he pressed onwards towards his pelvis. 

Harry jerked upwards and one hand flew to hold Zayn’s hair gently, the other squeezing the edge of the couch until his knuckles went white. “Love, love, love, love—“

Zayn closed his eyes and swallowed a little to relieve some of the pressure, that too made Harry buck farther into his mouth uncontrollably. He was feeling good, he was feeling  _ this good.  _

It was only a matter of time before Zayn remembered he had a tongue, experimentally dragging it around as he sucked and messily slurped down all the way to Harry’s pubis, choking a little as Harry held his head there. The position was just obscene, Zayn kneeling in front of a man holding his head on his dick, his pants getting tighter and tighter by the second. 

“You’re so good,” Harry ran his fingers firmly through Zayn’s scalp, pulling a long moan from the latter’s lips. “Oh, fuck.” Harry’s jaw dropped when the vibrations hit through him, creating a sensation so deep he could practically feel the electricity in his core. 

Zayn used his hands to grip and rub at the base of it, pulling back off with a pop, then looking up at Harry whilst licking around and sucking on the head. He then started slapping it on his tongue, because that was a move he once saw in porn, and sure enough, Harry groaned and gripped his chin with the hand clenching the couch, forcing his jaw open as he gently rocked into Zayn’s throat. 

He gagged a few times, Harry rubbing his head in strained apology, sweat running down his neck and chest. His abdomen glistened, hair sticking to his face, an absolute fucking vision. 

“I’m close, love,” Harry managed to get out, clenching his stomach as he forced out the word. “So good, sorry,” He apologized again when he roughoused his way back down into Zayn’s mouth. “Look—look up, Zayn, look up,”

Zayn did, blinking frantically with rosy cheeks and his jaw still in the grip of Harry’s unrelenting hand, slamming his own down on Harry’s thighs when the bastard began to pull at his hair in the delicious way he knew Zayn liked. 

“I’m gonna come,” Harry informed almost nonchalantly, letting Zayn go to pull off and start rubbing down the length of his dick with his hands. “Shit.” 

“On my face,” Zayn made out before swooping back down to suck at Harry’s head. “I really like that.” 

“Okay,” Harry nearly laughed at how insane this was, his cock so deep in the throat of the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen. He could practically see the outline of it as Zayn gagged on him, and the second he decided to look up and slowly bat his eyelashes, that was it. 

Harry yanked Zayn’s head off by his hair and stood up, shimmying his body back as he rubbed himself off, dick basically pressed onto Zayn’s tongue. “Fuck—gonna come,”

Zayn closed his eyes and opened his mouth wider, and the electricity Harry had been feeling in his stomach suddenly spread to his toes, his fingers, all the muscles in his back and chest, finally erupting white streams of come all over Zayn’s eyelids and tongue. He didn’t mean to, but it was messy and widespread, orgasming harder than he had ever done in his entire life. Some of it even got into Zayn’s hair. 

“Oh my god,” Zayn whimpered, hands fumbling to unzip his pants and pull his cock out. “Fuck,” He whined, Harry dropping to his knees in front of him and shooing his hands away. 

“Put your hands on my shoulders and wrap your legs around me, baby.” He ordered, but Zayn shook his head and continued to get himself off, so with an uncharacteristically aggressive growl Harry manhandled Zayn’s body onto his own, pinning him down to the ground with his larger hand wrapped around Zayn’s cock. 

“Need to come,” Zayn complained, then yelped when Harry began to rub circles over the head, clenching and unclenching his toes and squeezed Harry’s shoulders. “Ungh,” 

“I know,” Harry cooed, “Let it go, baby, it’s okay. Yeah,” He kissed Zayn’s face, licking some of his own come off of his cheek as Zayn pressed closer to him. 

He came in between them with a loud shout, panting and shivering in Harry’s arms until he flew back down from the clouds, flopping his limbs onto the floor. “Oh my god.” 

“Yeah,” Harry giggled, kissing him quickly. “Oh my god indeed.”

* * *

“That was fast,” Zayn commented, still ruffling his wet hair with his towel. “You sure you showered?” 

Harry laughed at him, wrapping his towel around his lower half. “I seem to be missing my pants.” 

“Here,” Zayn threw a pair of sweats at him. “Your ass looks good in those,” He got a snort in response, followed by a shrill screaming from down the hall. “That’s Saf.” He grunted, getting off the bed and padding over to their bedroom, Harry following closely behind whilst pulling a sweatshirt over his head. 

“What’s wrong, bubba?” Zayn’s demeanor instantly shifted, crouching down to pick Safaa up from where she fell off the bed and onto the floor. Waliyha was on the other side, looking disheveled and tired and miserable. 

“Hello,” Harry got past the formalities, picking Waliyha up and resting her in his arms. “Great nap, huh?” 

“Saf,” Zayn patted her back, snuggling her in the way that usually works, looking distressed when it did not. “Stop screaming, bubs, please,” 

Waliyha covered her ears and began to cry as well, so Harry stood up straight, rocking her back and forth until they all realized something wasn’t working. “Zayn?”

“Yeah?” Zayn squeaked, in between peppering Safaa’s face with desperate kisses. 

“Let’s switch,” Harry asserted, plopping one girl for the other, “Hi lil’ one.” 

Safaa wailed. “It’s Harry! It’s me, it’s okay,” Harry expectantly turned his face to the side. “Gimme a kiss?”

Safaa sniffed and looked at him like he was an idiot, eventually leaning forward and smacking her entire face against his cheek. “Aw, thank you,” Harry sighed, thumping her back a little harder than Zayn had. “Was it a bad dream?” 

Safaa nodded, struggling to keep her jaw shut. Harry pinched her nose and she closed her eyes when it happened, “Well, it’s a good thing you woke up, then. Now it can never scare you again.” 

“It’s okay, Wali,” Zayn kissed her forehead, “You were so upset from being woken up, I know,”

“Zee?” 

“Yeah?” 

Harry walked over to him quickly, “I think we need to go to the hospital.” 

“What? Why?” Zayn’s eyes flew down to look at Safaa. “Oh my god,” He exclaimed as he inspected her arms and legs, softly thumbing over the large hives strewn all across her skin. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Hey,” Harry complained out of instinct, shaking his head at him. “Don’t bring that guy up. I’ve been mad at him for a while.” 

“Harry,” Zayn shook his head back at him and began to whimper. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We’ll go to the hospital, alright? I’ll get the car started and fasten Waliyha up. Don’t,” Harry paused to lean forward and kiss Zayn’s head. “Please don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry?” Zayn cried, clutching Safaa to his chest. “I’m such a bad guardian. How could I let this happen? She probably got a reaction to something at the park,” 

“Listen, baby,” Harry’s tongue was like warm honey dripping over supremed slices of grapefruit, his tone comforting and his hands feathering out Zayn’s hair. “She’s not in any pain, and she’s breathing fine. Chances are it’s not too serious, okay?” 

“Don’t patronize me,” Tears were streaming down his face and Harry immediately started to panic. 

“Oh gosh, honey, don’t cry,” Harry begged. “Zaynie?” 

Zayn sobbed into Safaa’s hair, then Waliyha began to rummage around in Harry’s lap for purchase. “Zee?” 

“It’s okay, Waliyha,” Harry consoled, breathlessly bouncing her around and patting her back as the other two cried whilst holding each other. “Zayn. Zayn, look at me.” 

“Hm?” Zayn looked up and was met with a swift kiss pressed to his lips, followed by Harry scooping Safaa up from his arms. “What?”

“I’m gonna get the car started, you go and get a change of clothes, paperwork, anything you’ll need, okay, baby?” Harry whispered softly, gently nuzzling their noses together. 

“O—okay.” 

They nodded together before standing back up, Harry walking down the steps with a little girl in each arm. 

“Ha—ree.” 

“Yes, little one?” Harry answered, gently setting them both down on the couch.

“My tummy hurts,” Waliyha complained, jutting out her bottom lip. 

“Oh,” Harry gave her his hand to hold as Safaa tugged on his sweater. “Yes, Safaa?” 

“I’m cold, Harry,” 

“Ah,” He grabbed the throw blanket from over top the pillows, wrapping it around Safaa’s pajama clad body. 

“Harry, I can’t move,” Safaa kicked her legs. 

Harry slapped his head and moved to untie her again. “I wasn’t thinking and I swaddled you, gosh. Maybe a...lazily wrapped burrito?” Harry re-wrapped her, and when she seemed satisfied, they shot each other dumb grins. 

“What’s that, Har—ree?” Waliyha asked, pointing to the article of clothing strewn across the bookshelf behind him. He instantly coloured and rushed to rip his shirt from the wall, resulting in pulling a spine from one of the books and it coming crashing down. 

He stared at it. All three of them did. “Brannan Family History?” 

“Hey, I got everything. Let’s go,” Zayn said as he rushed down the stairs with a giant diaper bag, beckoning with his hands for Harry to bring his sisters. “What’re you looking at?” 

“Uh, nothing! Nothing,” Harry blinked and licked his lips nervously. After setting the book down into the lowest shelf, he jumped up and took the girls to the car, fastening them in with a hum. When they made fun of him for it, he promptly blamed Zayn for not singing to them enough, and then they were off. 

“Is it itchy, Saf?” Zayn asked nervously, picking at the skin around his thumbs. When Harry put a hand over his to make him stop, his cheeks flamed with prowess. 

“A little,” Safaa pouted, wiggling around in her car seat. 

“Oh god,” Zayn worried. “Oh god.” 

“It’s all gonna be okay, I mean look, you live ten minutes from the nearest hospital.” Harry tried to make the situation a little lighter, but the rash was slowly becoming more and more perilous. 

“I know we’re ten minutes from the hospital,” Zayn snapped, without meaning to. They then silently got out of the car, rushing towards the emergency room all feeling too much of a familiar tread. “Sorry for snapping,” He promptly apologized, and Harry couldn’t help but smile under his disposition. 

He was just so lovely and genuine that it was unreal. “It’s okay, baby, ‘know you’re stressed.” 

“Hi,” The nurse immediately jumped up and looked dead into Harry’s eyes. “Zayn, Safaa, and Waliyha. Who’s this?” 

“Hi, Anna. This is...Harry,” Zayn smoothly handed a babe over to her, walking through the halls so easily and recognizably, as though this was their second home. “Saf has a rash.” 

“Oh, that doesn’t look too bad,” Anna winked. “Bet he freaked out and rushed over here like Speedy Gonzalez, huh?” She asked Harry, who was so flabbergasted all he could respond with was a nod. “I’ll get the doctor. Y’all stay put.” 

They then all collapsed down onto some hospital chairs as Waliyha fidgeted and Safaa looked very worried in Harry’s arms. The little girl looked up at him with her big Zayn eyes, bottom lip jutted out and eyebrows furrowed together. “Aw, don’t look at me like that.” 

“Look at you like what?” Zayn answered, startling the two of them locked in their trance. “Oh, you were talking to...oh.” 

“Uh,” Harry joked, “Safaa and I were telepathically communicating.” 

“Telelelepathing,” Safaa repeated, tipping onto one of Harry’s strong forearms in exhaustion. Her brow was wet, her skin feverish, and her eyes just screamed immense stress. Harry didn’t think it possible for such a young person to have developed a stress rash, but then again, no clear verdict as of yet. “Harry, can I wear your rings?” 

“Sure,” Harry stretched his hand out for her to pull his fingers and mess around with his many rings. “Might be too big for you though.” 

“Are you married, Harry?” Safaa asked innocently, not knowing that her inquiry had made Zayn’s head snap up. 

“No,” Harry shook his head. 

“But—but people wear rings on their finger here,” Safaa reasoned, grabbing Harry’s ring finger with the entirety of her hand. 

“I was once married,” Harry shrugged. “I think it just looks cool now.”

Safaa scoffed at him. Scoffed. 

“It was an unique situation,” Harry scoffed back, mildly offended. 

“You still wear yours and Louis’ wedding ring?” Zayn asked in the same accusatory tone, and Harry’s jaw dropped. “What’s that about?” 

“No, no,” Harry nearly dropped Safaa in his haste to shake his hands back and forth. “It’s—it’s complicated.”

“Is it really?” 

A new voice laughed in front of them, a lovely female doctor entering the examination room. “Hi, Zayn. Oh, who’s this?” 

“This is Harry,” Zayn explained again, not really knowing what to say beyond that. 

“And he’s…?” 

Well, shit. “He’s…”

“My best friend,” Safaa cut in, and all the adults cooed at how she clutched Harry’s forearm tightly as the scary gloved hands came at her. “No!” 

“Oh, this doesn’t look too bad,” The doctor tutted, giving Zayn a knowing look. “He’s such a worry wart, isn’t he?” 

“It’s, it’s a rash!” Zayn admonished. 

“They’ll just need a quick shot. It might be because of the weather right now, but also because of how stressed out they are. Trauma induced rash.” The doctor snapped her gloves off, reaching over for the drawer. 

“Trauma induced rash?” Harry frowned, but Zayn shook his head at both of them, clearly not wanting to go into it. 

“No shot,” Waliyha groaned, trying to hide herself in Zayn’s shirt. “No,” 

Safaa, at the sight of her sister’s panic, immediately began to wail. “Oh, little one, it’s okay.” Harry bounced her, but all it did was drop a sick beat of her straight toned cry. 

“Come on, up on the table.” The doctor did Waliyha first, but only after a great deal of sassy blubbering and protesting. Safaa, however, was a different story. 

“You can hold my hand,” Harry offered, waving one while using the other to gently wrench Safaa from the inner lining of his coat. “Oh, dear.” 

“Saf,” Zayn sighed, trying to grab her from the other side. “It’ll make you feel better!” 

“No,” Safaa began to climb Harry, fisting his shirt desperately. Harry put his hands up at everyone trying to grab her, allowing a second for Safaa’s head to poke up from under the collar of his coat and realize she had nowhere else to go. 

“Alright, I’ll give you a hug, how about that?” Harry peeled her from him and rested her head on his shoulder, patting her back. “It’s okay. It’s absolutely terrifying and barbaric, I know.” 

“And,” The doctor wiped her small arm with alcohol, injected her with medicine, and had a plaster on Safaa’s deltoid before she even had the time to slap Harry and flail around. “Done.” 

“Oh bubs, c’mere,” Zayn embraced her, showering her face with kisses of relief. Harry thanked the doctor as she swiftly made her exit, catching the wink she flashed him just before disappearing behind the curtains. “So brave. My little baby bubby bubble bunny,”

“Come on,” Harry fondly ruffled Waliyha’s hair. “I’ll take you guys home.” 

“Can I have ice cream?” Her hand naturally gravitated towards grabbing his, essentially making Harry drag her out the door. When she was met with a no, she pouted and said, “You’re bad. I don’t like you.” 

“That’s alright,” Harry shrugged. 

“My arm hurts,” Safaa whined, kicking and struggling in Zayn’s arms. “Zee,” 

“Bubs, stop it,” Zayn sighed, begged almost. “You can go back to bed in just a second.” 

Harry lifted Waliyha up as he opened the car door, plopping her in her seat. “Are you staying with us forever, Harry? Forever and ever?” 

“Can we keep him?” Safaa asked Zayn, “Please, pretty please?” 

Zayn blushed, “He’s not a pet, bubs.”

Harry kissed Zayn’s cheek before running into the driver’s seat, wordlessly driving the Malik family home after what was definitely the most confusing night of his life. In what seemed like an instant, Zayn had the girls back in bed, tea screaming on the stove, and was now dumping some dry food into a bowl for Hippo. He didn’t think he could be any more in love. 

* * *

“D’you want to watch a movie?” Zayn asked, obviously still a bit shaky, but trying to smile. “Life insurance came in, so now we have all the streaming services.” 

“How morbid,” Harry commented, nodding when Zayn offers him a cup of tea. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m--I’m fine. I actually quit my job today, properly. Took a box of my things home and everything.” Zayn sighed, holding his mug with both hands. They sat there awkwardly for another moment, not saying a word. 

“The Lion King,” Harry said out loud, just to keep anything going at all. “I want to watch the Lion King.” 

Zayn laughed, turning to face him. “I always thought you were more of a ‘Love, Actually,’ kind of person.” 

“Are you trying to say something?” Harry gave him an offended look, but when Zayn’s gaze softens and the warm light hits his cheeks like fire, he can’t even joke around anymore. Everything felt like it’s gotten so serious so fast. 

Besides, he hasn’t been able to get what Zayn said to

him out of his mind. As he typed up the movie title letter by letter on the television, Harry stared at him. 

“You’re staring at me,” Zayn reminded him without breaking eye contact with the screen. 

“What did you want to show me?” 

Zayn cocked his head to the side, “I wanted to show you something?” 

“Yeah,” Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. When the Disney sign twinkles, the light bounces off the glass on top of the coffee table, which then bounces off the lower shelf of the bookshelf he left earlier. “Like...that.” 

“That?” 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Harry stood up and walked over to it, falling onto his knees as he pulled out the book. “Brannan Family History.” 

He can feel Zayn run over in a panic, so he preemptively turns around, “Why are you panicking?” 

“I’m not,” Zayn sputtered, but made a grab for the book. “Just be careful, it’s a family heirloom.” 

“So wait, it’s  _ your _ family?” Harry asked, opening the book up and gasping when dozens of loose pieces of paper fell to the ground. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” 

When he reached down to help pick them up, however, his hands began to shake when his eyes couldn’t. “Elizabeth? Lizzie?”

“Harry, don’t—“

“What the fuck? Why—why is Jamie in this book?” Harry shakes off the dust of the open page, where all the letters were bookmarking. As his eyes scanned the name and page, his left one quickly began to hurt. “That’s the,” He pointed to the sigil next to James’ name. “That’s the…”

“Harry,” Zayn tried to grab him as he stood up. “I can explain.” 

“Just what on earth is this?” When Harry moved to open one of the letters, Zayn lured forward and snatched it from his hand. “What are you hiding?” 

“Nothing, I’m hiding nothing,” Zayn pleaded, but it was obvious he felt guilty about something.

“It says Cherry right here,” Harry already had another one opened and was skimming through it. “You knew, didn’t you?” 

“Know what? I don’t know anything.” Zayn’s breath was so heavy that Harry began to breathe heavily as well. 

“You’ve obviously read all of these,” Harry choked out. “You obviously know—how could you not? Was,” He began to back up and away from him. “Was this your plan all along? To play some sick game with me, or—or make me your experiment?” 

“No!” 

“Then how did you know about Jamie, about all these letters, and after what I told you, never think to come to me about them?” Harry yelled, balling some of the letters up and throwing them on the ground. “After I opened up to you about my past, it’s not something you just forget, Zayn.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Tears began to fall from his eyes. “I know you’re right. But Harry, I know that whatever this is and whatever that’s going on with you, it’s much deeper than everything that could be in this book. That’s why I just couldn’t tell you.” 

“This symbol was around his neck the night he died,” Harry seethed, unable to even look at it. “The tree, the fucking tree, the...you’re his descendant.” Harry’s entire demeanor crumbled as the words came out. “That’s why...I can’t. I—I have to go.” 

“Wait, Harry!” Zayn tried to stop him, but Harry shook him off. “Please stop, I’m sorry.” 

“We’re through, Zayn,” Harry turned around and his eyes were glowing, one pale blue and the other dark as moss, almost ethereal and otherworldly. “Don’t ever talk to me again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. And yes, if you’re wondering, Harry did just leave Hippo at Zayn’s house.


End file.
